The King and His Isabella
by SimplyKatieKate
Summary: A King with hatred and vengeance in his heart and a girl with a painful past and no memories before then weaved together by fate. "I was once told that I will find who I was once and fate will take me there, but I will suffer first. She didn't tell me it would be this hard"
1. Chapter 1

The King and His Isabella

Chapter 1

 _ **Summary: A King with hatred and vengeance in his heart and a girl with a painful past and no memories before then weaved together by fate. "I was once told that I will find who I was once and fate will take me there, but I will suffer first. She didn't tell me it would be this hard"**_

 _ **Disclaimer: All twilight characters are not mine. Just the plot of the story.**_

 _ **Warning: This story is not for the faint of heart. It is full of pain and violence and injustice. It is dark and it contains rape If you do not want to read these kind of stories with dark and heartless characters then please feel free not to.**_

 _ **Re-post notes: I'm sorry. I was called out on the description of the characters. And as guessed by one of the reviewers, the main inspiration for my bella was the sea. I wanted bella to have Sapphire eyes as to mirror the deepest sea for reasons that will be revealed later. I'll correct the two chapters now and clear out some minor details. Thanks for the support :D**_

Edward glared at the young girl cowering at his feet.

Pooled at the base of his throne in a heap of delicate gauze and glittering gems, she was as beautiful and simple as the rest of them had been. Even now those large, vacant eyes were overflowing with tears.

"Please, King of Kings, spare me," the girl whimpered through her clasped hands. "I beg of you to spare me."

"Why?" the king asked, his voice low and dark.

"Because I have done nothing but try to please you!" she cried. "I will be a good wife to you!"

"A good wife?" Edward scoffed angrily. "Experience has taught me there is no such thing."

"But I am different, I -"

"You are all the same," the king interjected. "You are a faithless, deceitful breed."

"My king, I would never betray you like Queen Irina."

Edward's rugged features hardened at the mention of his first wife. In an instant the emperor was another person entirely: His amber eyes ignited in a flash of anger, his upper lip curled into an animalistic snarl and his powerful hands shook as they clenched the arms of his throne.

The girl knew immediately that she had made a mistake. Her wide eyes grew even larger and her entire body trembled under the vengeful eyes of the king.

"You would," the Edward spat furiously. "You would and you will if I give you the chance."

"No, no please," she begged. "Please, my king, no."

The girl threw herself at the king's knees, grasping desperately at the rich fabric he wore as if seeking some comfort in its folds. Edward stood up and grabbed the young woman by her throat, wrenching to her feet with just one hand.

Fresh tears and wails erupted anew as he drew her closer and closer to him, closer and closer to the unbridled rage burning in his eyes.

"I wonder exactly how many days it would be before I find you in bed with another man," he said slowly. He pulled the top of her dress down violently, exposing her breasts for the world to see.

"No, never!" She choked, trying desperately to tear the king's fingers apart.

"Or how many months would pass before you try to murder me in my sleep," the king said, his voice rising. His open palm came down on her right breast, turning her milky skin a deep red.

"Ah! Please -"

"Or how long it would take you to cut my still-beating heart from my chest," he roared. Another slap, this time across her tear-streaked face.

The girl did not have enough breath to scream but she managed a strangled gasp.

"Be silent you treacherous whore," he snapped. "You will be exiled and when you die alone in the desert, your sun-bleached bones will serve as a reminder to all men that a woman's love is as fleeting as her beauty."

Edward threw the girl down and slowly resumed his place on the throne, watching with dark satisfaction as the guards came to haul her half-naked body away.

The girl's wailing cries for mercy barely registered as they echoed through the halls. Edward had long grown deaf to any woman's please for forgiveness. This girl would mark the one hundred and fiftieth woman he had married and then exiled since his wife's death.

Exile from the kingdom was tantamount to a death sentence. If the desert did not kill the women, the robbers who haunted the treacherous dunes surely would.

And she will not be the last. Edward thought to himself. They will all die. Every last one of the treacherous whores will die.

Edward glanced idly around the throne room, counting off the ever-present guards to make sure that none but two were missing as he waited for Jasper.

His childhood friend and most trusted advisor, Jasper was a tall, strapping man with green eyes and dark hair had not yet begun to grey. He had a broad smile that used to help them escape from all sorts of trouble when they were boys. Edward had not seen that smile for a long time... At least, not directed at him.

At any moment now, Jasper would storm into the throne room. Just as he had every morning for the past hundred and fifty days, the vizier would arrive in shocked disbelief and then become exceedingly angry with the emperor before attempting vainly to bargain for the girl's life. Finally Jasper would become despondent and leave to oversee the beheading.

Edward sat up straighter as the heavy wooden doors to the throne room were thrown open.

"Right on time," he muttered under his breath.

"Edward!" Jasper cried as he stormed towards the king. "How could you? Have you any idea what you have done?"

"She was just like all the others Jasper," he said. "She would have betrayed me before we'd even finished our honeymoon."

"That was the high court judge's youngest daughter," the vizier moaned. "Do you have any idea how many men you have just added to your list of enemies?"

"Men are not the problem, Jasper."

"They will be if you ever find yourself unguarded," he warned.

"That is why I never am," Edward said icily.

"You are without a doubt the most -"

"Jasper," the king said sharply, "do not say something you won't live to regret."

The vizier sucked his teeth and fumed silently at the king. After the Queen betrayed him, Jasper had watched his friend and ruler descend into crippling madness like a powerful dog ravaged by rabies. He was consumed with revenge and thought of nothing else.

"Let's bypass the usual routine, shall we? No, I will not alter my decision. Yes, the order for exile has been given. And yes, you must bring me another one," he said.

"And where do suggest I find another one?" Jasper asked, not even attempting to hide his anger.

"The harem, Jasper, where else?" Edward snapped.

"As of ten minutes ago, the harem is empty, your highness," the vizier seethed. "You have managed to exile all the women in your palace in less than half a year and you are still not satisfied?"

Edward rose and began to pace the room, stroking his beard anxiously. He was a ruthlessly handsome man with amber eyes and red copper hair that was only now beginning to streak with grey above his ears. And yet a blind man could see the vengeful madness that lurked just behind those striking features. Jasper pictured him now as a wolf that had lost the scent of its quarry, foaming at the mouth from want but finding nothing in its retraced footsteps.

Finally the king stopped pacing and whirled around to point a threatening finger at Jasper.

"You will find me a girl, Jasper," he said. "There are thousands of unmarried women in this city that would leap at the chance to marry the King of Kings. You will find me another one or it will be your head instead."

"This is insanity, Edward!" Jasper cried exasperatedly. "You have gone too far!"

"I haven't gone far enough!" the king roared. "They all deserve to die and I won't stop until this city is cleansed of their treachery!"

"You dishonor your mother and your sister with your words," Jasper warned. "When you condemn all of womankind on the actions of -"

"You have not known betrayal," Edward fumed. "You are lucky your fiancé died before you had the chance to marry her."

"How dare you?" Jasper asked, his hands curling into fists. "You dare to bring Mary into this? You know very well -"

"Enough!" Edward interrupted, drawing his sword from its sheath and raising it to the vizier's heart. "Find me another or die!"

~~~**~~~

That afternoon Jasper rode through the streets of Persepolis in search of another sacrifice for the king. He had been loose with his words in front of the scullery maids, knowing that within a few hours his purpose would be known. Indeed, he had not been wrong: every father in the city had hidden his unmarried daughters away.

For hours he combed the main roads and back alleys of the city searching for a single woman mad or desperate enough to follow him back to the palace. A selfish part of him hoped to find one, but for the most part he did not: Although he did not care for the thought of death, he had watched far too many innocent girls be cast out into the desert to die for his lack of action.

The sun began to sink lower and lower into the sky and he directed his escort back towards the palace.

"Oh well, my friends," he chuckled sadly to the guards, "I suppose I should have quit while I was a-head."

No one laughed.

Jasper's heart grew heavy as they neared the palace. He was riding knowingly to his own execution.

"Men," Jasper said suddenly, "grant me one reprieve before I return to Edward to die. Let me go to the cove on the other side of the palace. I will not attempt to flee, I merely wish to see the ocean one last time."

Not one of the soldiers could refuse the advisor and they escorted him through the forest that bordered the palace's west side and out to the seashore. Jasper dismounted and walked to the ruined dock that jutted out into the sea. The men rested in the growing shadows and paid him little mind. They trusted him to brave his fate like a man.

Jasper climbed along the cracked slabs of stone that had once formed an ancient cargo dock. He and Edward used to sneak out of the palace every chance they got to play here. Inside the palace they were prince and nobleman, out here they were roguish pirates, desperate castaways on a desolate shore, deserters from the navy. Across the small bay was a small fishermen's wharf where the men were just now bringing in the last catch of the day. When they were boys, Edward and Jasper had often listened to the fishermen on the wharf tell stories of mermaids, sirens and sea-nymphs as they mended their nets. The salt air incensed the boys' imaginations and made the stories seem not only possible but probable.

"For Edward to remember the happiness we felt here," Jasper breathed, "I would give anything."

Jasper stared sadly at the waves lapping against the ruined dock. The sun was slowly being swallowed by the gathering dusk and he could wait no longer. Jasper turned to head back to the palace and face his executioner when he heard a commotion coming from the wharf. He walked slowly down the dock and over the rocks to the small beach. The fishermen were yelling and laughing at something - perhaps one of them made an unusual catch or brought in an unlucky haul.

Smiling as he envisioned a great octopus being dragged ashore, Jasper trudged leisurely over the soft, white sand. This might, after all, be his last moment to laugh.

But then the royal advisor heard something that spurred his restful pace into a jog - the sound of a woman screaming. Jasper whistled for the guards to follow him as he picked up his pace, sprinting now to the wharf as the woman's cries grew louder.

Jasper and his escort elbowed their way through the throng of fishermen. At the center of the gathering two young men were standing over a young girl whose only covering was the algae-encrusted nets she was caught up in. The youths were tugging at the nets, whistling and jeering at the girl as she struggled desperately to keep herself covered.

"Enough! Stop this!" Jasper shouted over the clamor of the crowd. "How dare you insult the modesty of a woman?"

A nervous silence settled over the assembly of fishermen as the guards moved to surround the girl.

Jasper threw off his cloak and wrapped it around the girl's shivering shoulders. His blood was boiling when he stood up to face the fishermen.

"What have you done to her?" he demanded furiously.

"Nothing sir!" one of the youths answered pleadingly. "We were fishing and caught her up in our nets."

"She's not a lady sir," chimed in the other, "she's a sea-nymph."

"I wouldn't care if she was a jinn!" he fumed. "She is a member of the fairer sex and must be treated as such!"

The lads cowered under the advisor's flaming gaze and nodded vigorously.

"I will allow you to go unpunished despite your crimes," Jasper said. "But you will remember this day and what I have told you or be prepared to face the consequences."

The young men bowed away with a thousand expressions of gratitude and apology.

"Clear them all away," Jasper said, waving his hand at the curious spectators.

As the guards pushed the fishermen away Jasper returned his attention to the girl who was desperately trying to untangle her long, delicate limbs from the nets.

"It's all right, you're safe now," Jasper murmured, kneeling down to help unsnarl the mess of seaweed and netting.

The girl's skin was so pale and the deepest sapphire colored eyes that seem to frame half her face he ever seen. She certainly did look like one of the mer-folk Jasper had been told about as a child. Her hair was the color of the richest earth and it was braided with strands of shining thread, semiprecious stones and carved charms. Strange, scrawling tattoos decorated her body with symbols Jasper did not understand. She looked young, indeed he doubted whether she had seen any more than nineteen or twenty summers in her lifetime.

Jasper shook his head as if attempting to break the spell her beauty had placed on him and wondered if it was really possible for the girl to be a mermaid or a sea-nymph. If she was, the fishermen's stories dictated that he needed to give her a gift. His cloak was not enough, he needed to give her something from the land, of his own making. Jasper's hands suddenly went to his throat where a single ivory charm hung from a simple string around his neck. The piece of bone was carved into a simple shell and had been intended as a childhood gift to his mother before she died. Without hesitation he pulled the necklace off and held it out to her.

"Please take this gift from my land and let it speak to you of my heart and of my hand," he said measuredly. All the fishermen in the stories had said something along those lines.

The girl's sapphire eyes captured Jasper's completely and held his gaze hostage. He could feel her eyes searching his soul and he offered no resistance.

The young girl eyed him diligently, taking in every tanned inch of his skin. Her savior was a handsome man: his vivid eyes were honest and his hair fell around his face in dark waves. She reached out a hand to touch him, her fingertips dancing lightly over his cheek.

He was older than he looked, and she could see that he had endured a great deal of torment and pain. Finally the girl's gaze softened and she let her hand fall. Her lush lips turned up in a grateful smile as she accepted the gift.

"Thank you," she said as she clenched the charm tightly in her pale fingers. Her words dripped from her lips in a dark, exotic accent that Jasper could not place. "It is not often that men remember the lessons childhood stories taught them."

"Then you are a mermaid?"

"I did not say that," she said, handing the charm back to Jasper.

Jasper shook his head and closed her slim fingers around the charm: "It was a gift."

"Thank you," the girl murmured.

"What are you?" Jasper pressed.

"I am from the sea," she said, her eyes glinting almost mischievously as she fastened the string around her neck.

"A sea gypsy?"

"You are putting words in my mouth," she admonished softly. "I have told you all you need to know - I am from the sea."

Jasper nodded slowly. He did not know what to think of the mysterious girl. In all likelihood she was probably nothing more than a sea gypsy but this wan creature looked nothing like the nautical vagrants he had encountered before. The young woman before him looked as beautiful and spoke as regally as a siren princess washed straight out of a fairy tale.

"What is your name?"

"Isabella," she answered.

"Well Isabella, my name is Jasper," he smiled gently. "I am the royal vizier to His Highness Edward, King of Kings and Emperor of Persia."

Though the young woman nodded, Jasper suspected those names meant little to her.

"You need food and rest," he continued. "I can take you to the palace where you will be cared for."

"I would not want to burden you," she said. "I can find a ship that will take me home in the morning."

"Never, Isabella," he said. "It would be an honor if your presence graced the king's court."

"Then I will be happy to accept," she replied graciously.

The vizier nodded and helped the girl to her feet. She gripped Jasper's arm tightly to keep herself from falling but her knees buckled after a few steps and she crumpled to the ground.

"Isabella!" Jasper gasped, kneeling at her side.

"I'm afraid I am not used to walking anymore," she muttered.

Jasper pulled the young woman into his arms and smiled kindly at her: "All you had to do was ask for my help."

Isabella rested calmly in the vizier's arms until she saw the horses. Jasper felt immediately how rigid the young woman's body became.

"What's wrong?"

"I do not trust those things," Isabella said, her brilliant eyes scanning the creatures with suspicion. "Both ends are treacherous."

"Don't worry," he chuckled. "I will not let it hurt you."

The vizier helped Isabella onto his horse and then climbed up behind her, wrapping a protective arm around her waist and pulling her tightly into his chest.

As they rode slowly back to the palace, Jasper suddenly remembered the king's orders. His heart sunk in his chest and despair clouded his countenance.

Almost as if she could sense his anguish, Isabella looked over her shoulder at the vizier.

"What is it, Jasper?"

"I had forgotten that I am a dead man," he said, smiling sadly at the young woman.

"Why is that?"

"King Edward was betrayed by his first wife and his descent into madness has cost one hundred and fifty lives," he explained. "Every evening he marries a woman from his harem and every morning he has her exiled."

If Isabella was shocked, she did not show it.

"This morning he sent the last woman in his harem to die in the desert and ordered me to find another or face execution. That is why he cannot see you and why, after tonight, you will not see me again."

"Then you do not intend for me to marry him?" Isabella asked.

Jasper's shocked voice came over her shoulder: "Of course not! Isabella, I did not save you just to let you die."

"But you did save me Jasper," she protested, "and that means my life is yours. I give it to you freely."

There was silence behind her.

"I can save you if I marry the king," she pressed.

"No," Jasper said shortly. "I could not live with myself if I let you do that."

++++++++

Jasper and his escorted reach the palace just as dusk devoured the last glowing rays of the setting sun. On the vizier's orders, the escort were gathered closely around him to keep prying eyes from noticing the cloaked figure in front of him.

They rode into the stables and Jasper quickly leapt off his horse. He turned to help Isabella down but, to his surprise, she landed softly beside him, already surer on her feet.

With a quick ring of a bell Jasper summoned a pair of servants to whisk Isabella away to the innermost sanctum of the palace: the harem.

"Even the king cannot enter the boundaries of the harem," Jasper said as the servants surrounded her. "As long as he doesn't know you're there, you will be safe."

"Don't do this, Jasper," she protested. "I can save you. I promise you he will not exile me."

"He has not spared one woman no matter her beauty," he countered. "You will be as good as dead by tomorrow if you marry him."

"If his heart is as troubled as you say it is, beauty is not what he seeks," she persisted. "I can at least give you one more day. Please let me repay my debt to you!"

"No!" Jasper cried. "I will not let you die!"

"I won't," she said firmly.

"Take her to the harem and do not let her leave," Jasper commanded, ignoring Isabella's pleas.

The two servants wrapped their arms through Isabella's in an attempt to lead her away but the young woman held her ground.

 **Hi!**

 **Welcome to my story.**

 **My name is Kate and I have been a twilight fan since 2009 and a fanfiction reader since 2013.**

 **I had tried to write stories before but I was never able to finish one.**

 **I had already pre- written about 20 chapters and I already have the ending map out.**

 **I hope you all like it. Writing this had been therapeutic to my very busy and odd life.**

 **Please review.**

 **Thank you.**


	2. Chapter 2

The King and His Isabella

Chapter 2

 _ **Summary: A King with hatred and vengeance in his heart and a girl with a painful past and no memories before then weaved together by fate. "I was once told that I will find who I was once and fate will take me there, but I will suffer first. She didn't tell me it would be this hard"**_

 _ **Disclaimer: All twilight characters are not mine. Just the plot of the story.**_

 _ **Warning: This story is not for the faint of heart. It is full of pain and violence and injustice. It is dark and it contains rape If you do not want to read these kind of stories with dark and heartless characters then please feel free not to.**_

"Unhand me," she said. All at once her voice was a different woman's. The lilting accent remained but her tone was commanding, sonorous. She straightened as the nervous servants let go of her and stood tall before the vizier.

Jasper stared helplessly into Isabella's eyes. A few moments before, he had been the one in charge, he had been the protector of a weak, vulnerable young girl. The woman before him now needed no saving. Her sapphire eyes were as strong and powerful as the sea herself and he suddenly worried he might drown in them.

"No one has managed to tame me yet," she said, an odd smile tugging at her lips. "And, despite all the chances he has had, Death has not managed to take me."

The stable was silent. Even the horses seemed to be frozen in time. While Isabella spoke, while her eyes glowed like moonlight on the ocean, the world held its breath. Then she blinked and the spell was broken.

"I - I can't let you do this," Jasper said weakly.

"You can," she said, her voice returning to normal. "You can and, more importantly, you will. I gave my life to you."

The gypsy looked at him meaningfully: "It was a gift."

"Isabella, you do not understand the sorrow and rage that has taken possession of his soul," the vizier pleaded. "You are too young to have been burdened by such betrayal."

The young woman's blue eyes clouded over and she stared gravely at the vizier.

"I have known sorrow, Jasper," she said icily. "I have experienced more pain and suffering that you could fathom. It taught me the importance of fealty in the face of death. I owe you my life, and I shall repay that debt."

Jasper brushed a few stray strands of gold hair from the young girl's face and gazed sadly into her glowing eyes.

"You deserve more than this," he said. "You deserve someone to take care of you and make sure you never want for anything."

"Jasper, my looks have made many think that," Isabella said, shaking her head. "But I was never destined for love or riches, my fate is a rough road and a harsh reward."

Edward had been drinking.

From outside the heavy, mahogany doors the guards could hear him swearing oaths into the night sky from the edge of his sprawling balcony, knocking trays of emptied goblets onto the marble floors and dashing spent bottles of wine into the fireplace.

Inside his chambers the emperor paced, alternately cursing himself and Jasper for what he was going to have to do if his advisor came back empty-handed. The thought of having to kill his closest friend weighed as heavily on his mind as the mornings' execution.

He shuddered now just thinking of the terrible look in the eyes of the girl's father. Never before had he seen so much grief, so much rage, so much anguish burning in the eyes of a man.

No, no that's not quite true, is it? He mused to himself bitterly. For months after the night she tried to kill you... Those were the eyes staring back at you in the mirror.

He drained his glass in a gulp.

Stupid, filthy snake!

Edward threw the goblet against the wall, finding some comfort in the clanging echoes of the metal upon the marble. As he stood listening to the lingering ring of brass against stone his sharp ears picked up another noise. The palace gates were opening - Jasper was back.

The emperor poured himself another glass of wine and then stalked out onto the balcony, anxious to see whether he would have to send his childhood friend to be executed, or whether Jasper had found a pretty little neck to save his own.

Edward stared down at the arriving party, not sure of what he was seeing. There was another person there, certainly, yet the guards were obscuring the vizier's companion as if on purpose.

Swilling the glass in his goblet, the shadowy king watched silently from the darkened balcony as Jasper helped a cloaked figure down from his horse and led the mysterious person hurriedly into the stables.

The color drained from the emperor's face.

An assassin. He thought, a cold sweat breaking out across his brow. He's hired an assassin to kill me in my sleep.

Edward gulped down his glass of wine and grabbed his sword from its scabbard. He threw open the doors to his chamber and commanded the men to follow him. His words were slurred but there was no denying the King of Kings his will.

The men followed Edward down to the stables and stood at the ready as he burst in, sword at the ready, prepared to strike the traitor down where he stood.

"Jasper?!" Edward had roared out the name before his brain even registered the scene before him. There was no assassin, just a slim, pale girl wrapped up in a cloak.

There was silence as the room waited for the king's drunken mind to catch up with his eyes.

"Jasper, what is this?" he finally managed, lowering his sword as he stormed towards the vizier. "I ask you to bring me a wife and you return with a barefoot gypsy?"

"She's not a gypsy, Edward," Jasper said. "I don't know what she is. I saved her from a group of fishermen who had caught her up in their nets."

"I am Isabella," the girl interjected.

"You will speak when I tell you to," Edward sneered, barely turning to glance at the girl.

"No, I will speak when I have something to say," she replied curtly, her accent making even her arrogance seem melodious. "You may listen as you see fit but I will say it nonetheless."

The king's disparaging demeanor disappeared and he turned around slowly to face the girl staring defiantly at him.

Edward's mouth fell open slightly when he saw that the eyes challenging his were the deepest, purest blue he had ever seen. They graced a delicate face as pale as sea-foam that was framed by long, wavy brown hair.

But not even Isabella's stunning beauty could quell the king's anger for more than a moment. His wide eyes narrowed and glowed fiercely.

"You impudent little bitch," he growled. "How dare you speak to me like that?"

"Well from what I understand you're going to have my head no matter what so I might as well speak what's in it while I have the chance."

The flustered emperor opened and closed his mouth, furiously searching for a retort to the girl's matter-of-fact statement. Never before had anyone, let alone a woman, tempted his anger so insolently. Never before had lips so luscious begged for both a kiss and a cuff.

"You will bow before royalty," he finally sputtered.

Two guards suddenly flanked Isabella and forced her to her knees. She clutched the cloak around herself tightly to keep the thick fabric from slipping off her shoulders.

"Oh I see," the girl mused mockingly, her eyes sparkling up at the man towering over her. "The king detests the weak-willed woman just as much as he does the woman with strength of character; He doesn't believe he can trust either."

The astonished stable was silent.

"Well, King Edward," Isabella continued, "If you want a fiercely loyal companion who will speak only when spoken to, might I suggest one of the mangy mutts wandering through your kingdom?"

Edward knelt down before the girl, his hand on his sword. His molten eyes blazed as he said: "Well, my brazen little whore, a sea-rat like you is not much better than a mutt."

Isabella's lips curled in a derisive smile, refusing to let the king see her anger.

"Jasper, you have failed to do as you were commanded," Edward said, turning his angry eyes on his vizier.

"I know," Jasper said solemnly.

"Then your life is forfeit."

"No!" Isabella cried out, springing to her feet. The guards immediately latched onto the struggling girl, holding her back.

"When Jasper saved me, my life became his," she exclaimed. "Take mine instead."

Edward stared at the girl silently, his dark brow furrowed as he considered her offer.

"You would give your life to save his?" He asked slowly. "You have known him all of an hour."

"He has my loyalty," Isabella said staunchly. "Take my life instead."

"If you expect this little charade to invoke my pity, you are sadly mistaken, gypsy," he said.

"This is not a charade," the girl said indignantly. "I am prepared to die if it will save Jasper."

The king's amber eyes held hers, unwavering. Finally Edward shrugged: "So be it - Jasper is free to go, but you have signed your life away to me, girl."

Jasper's mouth gaped but he could not find words to articulate his opposition to what had just occurred.

"Take her to my chamber," Edward said, his eyes never leaving Isabella's. "We will see how much of this insolent girl's is bark and how much is bite."

"But- but-" Jasper gasped, "you cannot do this!"

"Jasper, be silent before I reconsider your place on the executioner's list," Edward snapped. "This worthless piece of flotsam will be missed by no one and her disobedience has earned her nothing more than the treatment she is about to receive."

"Edward, you - "

"Bite your tongue, Jasper, or be prepared to lose it permanently!"

The vizier glowered silently at the monarch, his hands clenched into angry fists as Edward motioned for the guards to follow him. Isabella glanced over her shoulder one last time before the door closed behind them. She saw the despair and anger in Jasper's eyes and offered him the briefest of smiles.

Edward led the girl and his troop of guards back to his chambers, cursing under his breath the whole way.

Never before had all of his emotions been so incited by a single woman. The emperor glanced back at the girl: Her head was unbowed, her gaze unflinching, and that infuriating half-smile unwavering.

"What are you so happy about?" he muttered over his shoulder.

"Happy?"

"Why do you smile?"

"Because there is no point in tears," she shrugged. "As you said, you are not a man who gives in to pity."

"You are as perceptive as you are brash," he said as he pushed open the heavy mahogany doors that guarded his chamber.

"Leave us now," he said, waving away his armed escort.

The guards flanking Isabella pushed her to her knees once again and then filed out of the room to take their places along the corridor.

The moment the door was latched behind them, the girl was on her feet.

"On your knees," Edward demanded as he poured himself another glass of wine. "No one told you to stand."

Isabella raised her eyebrows at the king, offering him no response aside from a disdainful sniff.

The king put the glass down and walked slowly towards the obstinate girl, his blood boiling at her frustratingly superior attitude. He wrapped one hand around her neck and began to squeeze.

Fury flashed briefly in Isabella's blue eyes as Edward forced her to her knees. He held her there, his hand wrapped tightly around her throat.

"Either you do what I say willingly," he whispered angrily, "or I will force you."

Isabella's lips trembled but she pointedly refused to lower her big, blue eyes.

"What is this?" the king asked suddenly, his other hand fingering the necklace Jasper had given her. "How did you get this? Jasper would never have given this charm away."

Isabella desperately clawed at the king's fingers, her face turning red.

"You stole it from him, didn't you?" Edward snarled, tearing the string from her neck.

The young girl shook her head as best she could.

"Don't you lie to me!" the king cried, finally loosening his grasp on the neck. Isabella fell on the palms of her hands, desperately sucking air into her empty lungs.

"I'm not lying," Isabella finally managed, clutching the rich fabric tightly around her body as she rose to her knees.

"Then how did you get it?" Edward pressed.

"It was a gift," she said hoarsely. "He gave it to me to earn my trust."

"Oh, is that all it takes to earn the trust of a gypsy?" the emperor taunted. "If I throw a couple trinkets your way will you open your legs for me?"

"I did not open my legs for anyone," Isabella snapped.

"I bet you wanted to though," the king said. "Your kind have a reputation for a reason."

"Do not paint me as a whore," the girl said, anger sparkling in her eyes.

"I don't need to," Edward said. "You are a whore."

The king hurled the necklace to the floor and then turned his scathing eyes back to the girl.

"Now be a good little whore and take that cloak off."

"No."

"Take it off," Edward repeated icily.

The girl's knuckles simply clenched tighter and she shivered under the king's glare.

Edward reached down and slowly pulled a dagger from his boot. He knelt down before the girl slowly. He held the glinting blade in front of her face for a moment or two before gently running the blade down her neck.

Isabella gasped in sharply at the touch of the cold steel and stayed deadly still as the king brought the blade to rest just above her shaking hands.

"The cloak or your fingers, girl," Edward said. "Either way, something's coming off."

Again, Isabella shook her head. The blade came closer to her fingers, steel pressing sharply into her skin. A thin trail of blood dripped down her finger and Isabella bit her lip to keep from crying out at the blade's sting.

"Take it off," Edward repeated dangerously. "Slowly."

Isabella's shaking, bleeding fingers uncurled and she slipped the cloak gently off her shoulders. Edward licked his lips as the thick fabric pooled around the girl's knees. She could almost feel his fiery gaze singing her skin as he took in every inch of her naked body. The tattoos scrawled across her arms began to itch under his hungry gaze. A cool gust of wind from the open window blew gently across her breasts and her cheeks burned as she felt her nipples hardening. But Edward's knife was still poised before her breasts and she dared not attempt to cover them.

"Well, well, well," he leered, running the cold blade gently across her breasts. "I didn't know street rats could look such a dish."

"And I didn't know kings could act so much like a common lecher," she muttered.

Edward's eyes returned to hers sharply and he leaned forward until the knife was pressing against her chest and his lips were almost brushing hers.

"They can when they are bedding nothing but a common whore," he taunted.

"More like when they have been drinking enough to match a common drunk," she said, recoiling from the strong scent of wine on his breath.

"Sharp tongue," he said spitefully. But mischief and lust sparked in his eyes as he wondered aloud: "What else can you do with that?"

Isabella's eyes narrowed and she directed her gaze pointedly away from the king.

"No, no, no," he said, his words slurring slightly. "Look at me."

The young girl's jaw clenched.

"Look at me, bitch," Edward said dangerously, pressing the tip of the knife harder against her skin. "I want to see the fear in those pretty eyes."

Isabella's narrowed eyes flashed back to the king. There was no fear, no pain. The only thing Edward could see swirling around in those dark blue depths was anger.

The king reached out to run a hand down the girl's face. His fingers were gentle at first, softly running over her flawless skin, but in an instant his movements turned vicious: he gripped her chin firmly and wrenched her face towards his. She felt him move the blade from its place between her breasts and heard him tuck it into his boot.

"I hope you understand that you belong to me," he said, his lips brushing against hers as he spoke.

The only response he received was a short, indignant and derisive sniff. Edward pushed her face away sharply and stood up, pulling his robe off as he did.

"A whore like you should understand the concept of property," he said as he walked away.

"I don't remember you paying for me," Isabella retorted under her breath.

Edward turned around and stared at the girl incredulously. He threw his robe across the room and then pulled his linen shirt off. He began walking slowly towards the girl, reveling in the way her beautiful body tightened as he approached. Blood dripped from her fingers and glittered on her thighs like rubies in the dim light.

She watched him walk towards her with slow, deliberate steps, like a lion cornering his prey. His skin was the color of charred earth and his rippling chest was covered in dark hair.

"Why do you mock me?" he asked, grabbing a fistful of her hair and pulling her upwards. "Why are you so keen to incite my wrath?"

Isabella gasped and tried to pry the king's fingers apart, wincing in pain as he pulled her hair. Her bloody fingers left streaks of red in her hair and across Edward's fist.

"I'm not afraid of you," she managed through gritted teeth.

"You should be," he said, his lips brushing against her pained face. "I'm going to kill you in the morning."

"I can take care of myself," the girl snarled. "Your desert doesn't scare me."

"Oh I'm not going to exile you," he said darkly. "I'm going to kill you with my own bare hands. Then I'm going to string your body up outside the palace gates so that the whole city can watch the birds pick the flesh from your bones."

Edward let go of her hair and wiped his blood-covered hand across her face. Isabella gasped and her eyes filled with angry shock as the king backed away from her, a dark smile curling his lips.

"But don't you worry," he smiled darkly as he poured himself another glass of wine, "by morning you will wish you were dead anyway."

"I'm sure that's how most women feel after a night with you," Isabella scowled, her own blood smeared like war paint across her face.

Edward whirled around and hurled his glass of wine at Isabella. The young girl cried out and covered her face with her arms. The glass flew past her and shattered against the wall, wine dripping down the marble.

"You're lucky I didn't aim," the king growled. He started towards the girl, his eyes sparking as he noticed her heaving breasts and her trembling hands.

"Oh my, did I frighten you?" Edward purred mockingly as he knelt down in front of her. "And I thought you weren't afraid of me."

Isabella's upper lip twitched in derision but she did not respond to the king's taunt.

The fire in Edward's eyes was raging: "I once had a horse like you: Beautiful, wild, stubborn, and fearless. But it came to learn fear, it came to learn that I was its master."

Isabella drew back in disgust.

"You will come to learn the same, gypsy," Edward sneered.

"I am not chattel," the young girl spat. "You are my captor, not my master."

Edward snarled and grabbed the girl's throat, his powerful, rough hand wrapping around her neck once again.

"I am your master," he barked, "and, just like that horse, I will ride you until you collapse. You will die sweating beneath me."

The young girl strained to pry the king's fingers from around her neck. Even though she could not choke out a retort, her blue eyes spoke volumes. Edward allowed himself a moment to get lost in the girl's blazing sapphire eyes before finally loosening his grip on her throat.

Isabella gasped in air and glared angrily at the king.

"Then I will have repaid my debt to Jasper," she rasped grimly.

"He gives you a piece of carved wood and suddenly he has your allegiance?" Edward scoffed.

"He saved my life," Isabella bit back. "That means I owe him mine. And I intend to repay him."

"You won't," the king snarled. "You're a treacherous whore and you will abandon your promise to him the moment you get a chance."

"You will see that I am a woman of my word."

"A woman's word is worthless," Edward sneered.

 _ **Here's chapter two. :D**_

 _ **This is a re-post because I had been so excited to post the story and chapter 1 and 2 yesterday that I completely forgot to correct some of the details that came from the first draft of this story.**_

 _ **Just to clear things out. Bella has sapphire blue eyes that is like the color of the deep sea.**_

 _ **Edward has amber eyes :D**_

 _ **Also, to address some concerns. I will be posting a warning before the parts of the stories with rape or extreme violence. Thanks for the support.**_

 _ **XOXO Kate :D**_


	3. Chapter 3

The King and His Isabella

Chapter 3

 _ **Disclaimer: All twilight characters are not mine. Just the plot of the story.**_

 _ **Warning: This story is not for the faint of heart. It is full of pain and violence and injustice. It is dark and it contains rape If you do not want to read these kind of stories with dark and heartless characters then please feel free not to.**_

"Are you always so poetic when you're plastered?" Isabella asked mockingly.

Edward loosed a swift backhand across Isabella's face, causing the girl to cry out sharply.

"Shut the fuck up you filthy, stinking whore!" Edward bellowed. "Shut your fucking mouth!"

The king's entire frame shook with rage and he raised his hand to hit the girl again if she dared utter another syllable. But Isabella was silent. For the moment, at least.

Edward rose to his feet and turned his back on the girl. Isabella crawled slowly towards the ivory charm but the king saw her and got there first. Just as the girl reached for the carved pendant Edward placed his foot on her hand and pressed down on her bloody fingers sharply.

Isabella cried out as he held her there. Edward smiled ruefully then knelt down to pick up the charm. Only when it was safely out of the girl's reach did he release her fingers.

"Keep your thieving hands off things that do not belong to you, gypsy," he said, his words dripping with disdain.

Isabella hugged her hand to her chest, cradling her fingers. Tears streamed down her cheeks and dropped onto her thighs, running streaks through the dried blood.

"Were you always so cruel?" She asked through gritted teeth. "No wonder she left you."

Edward's heart almost stopped beating. His amber eyes were fixed on the girl's but her eyes did not widen in fear, not even as he reached out and grabbed her by her hair. He could not hear whether she screamed or cried out as he dragged her across the room. The king did not even notice that her fingernails broke his skin as she clawed at his hand. All he could hear was the rush of blood through his veins, the throbbing of his temples, the pounding of his own feet against the floor.

He pushed open his chamber doors and wrenched the girl into the hallway, pulling her along the marble corridor until they reached a carefully concealed door in the wall. He opened the door and pushed the girl down the stairs.

Isabella cried out as she tumbled down the long, winding flight of steps. Every time she managed to catch herself, Edward was there to kick her down once again. Finally Isabella found herself sprawled on cold, earthen floor. The darkling room swayed before her eyes.

"Can you hear me? Huh? You fucking bitch, can you hear me?"

The king's words seemed to dance through her mind but Isabella nodded dazedly.

"Good," he muttered grimly.

The girl did not have the strength to resist as the king tied her wrists together and then looped the rope through a hook on the ceiling. He grunted as he wrenched the girl to her feet, pulling her up until her toes were barely touching the floor.

Isabella stared at the ground, trying with all her might to convince her brain that the world was not spinning.

"What are you going to do to me?" She asked, her words sounding as if they came from another person.

"I'm going to beat some sense into you, gypsy," Edward growled from somewhere in the darkness.

 _ **Warning: Abuse and rape ahead from a very angry Edward.. You may skip.**_

Suddenly he was before her, lifting her face to stare into her dilated eyes. She gazed helplessly back at him, unable to keep a hint of despair from trickling into her eyes. He held the whip in front of her face and then brushed it down her body, letting the leather tendrils graze her skin.

Then Edward took a step back and snapped the whip in the air a few times, taking sick pleasure in the way she flinched each time. Then, finally, he let it go against her skin.

Isabella screamed as it snapped across her chest, leaving a pattern of red welts across her breasts. Again and again and again Edward let the whip go, laughing as she bucked and screamed each time the whip tore at her skin.

"Dance, bitch, dance," he roared, snapping the whip against her legs.

Finally Isabella had no more screams. Her body was latticed with welts and hoarse moans replaced her sobbing cries.

Edward stepped back, sweat beading on his dark brow. He walked around the girl slowly, as if admiring his brutal handiwork, then returned to stand before her. The king put his fingers under her chin to raise her face and then held the handle of the whip before her mouth.

"Open your mouth, bitch," he purred.

Isabella did not respond so he simply pushed her lips open and shoved the whip handle inside, pushing it in and out of her mouth.

"You better get it good and wet, gypsy, because it's going inside you," he snarled in her ear. "Would you prefer it in your cunt or your ass?"

Tears streamed down Isabella's cheeks, stinging as they dripped onto the raw wounds that covered her body.

Edward pulled the whip from her mouth and ran it down her body. He slid it against the entrance to her pussy and then shoved it violently inside her. Isabella cried out and fresh tears sprang from her eyes as the king slowly fucked her with the handle of the whip.

She could feel every inch of the braided leather handle being buried inside her with each thrust.

"Feels good, doesn't it?" He asked mockingly. "You know what's going to feel better? When I shove my cock inside your ass."

Isabella whimpered and hung her head, letting her tears flow freely.

Edward let go of the whip, leaving it to dangle from her pussy, and undid his pants. His erect cock sprung from his trousers, full and thick. He began running his hand up and down his dick. He walked behind Isabella, kneeling down in front of her ass. He smacked her ass hard, his palm leaving a large red spot on her fair skin. Isabella moaned as he spread her cheeks wide and spat in her asshole.

"You have a beautiful ass," he murmured, kneading her soft flesh harshly.

Edward stood up and pulled her close to him.

"Are you ready for it?" He rasped in her ear.

Isabella cried out as he pushed his cock inside her. Edward clamped one hand over her mouth to muffle her screams as her ass stretched around his cock. Her hole was amazingly tight and he could not help but moan as it squeezed every inch of his thick cock. He began pushing in and out of her ass slowly, feeling the leather tendrils of the whip brushing against his thighs as he pummeled her.

"Oh fuck your ass feels good," he snarled. "You're so tight."

Edward's nails dug into her, holding her firmly in place as he fucked her ass. Isabella could feel the whip, buried to the hilt inside her, moving as Edward's cock did. She was being fucked so deeply in both holes that she was not certain she would even be able to walk to her own execution.

The king's pace quickened and he slammed into her ass harder and harder. For a while, the only sound was that of his skin slapping against hers as he fucked her.

"Fuck," Edward groaned, breaking the monotony. His balls were so heavy as they slapped against the girl. All he wanted was to empty them inside her.

Finally he let out a guttural moan and came inside her, his eyes rolling to the back of his head as her ass squeezed every last drop from his dick. Isabella clamped her eyes shut as Edward came, she could actually feel his hot seed filling her ass.

Edward pulled out and laughed as thick drops of cum dripped from Isabella's ass and ran down her legs. He wiped up a few drops on his fingers and walked around to face her. Her eyes were lowered and her face was covered in tears.

"Open your mouth," Edward said.

Isabella's eyes flashed up at him but she did not resist as he slid his fingers into her mouth, forcing her to taste his cum.

He pulled his fingers from her mouth and wiped them across her face before reaching down to slide the whip from between her legs. He held it before her face so that she could see her own juices dripping from it and then wiped the whip across her tits.

"Now I have painted you as a whore," Edward sneered breathlessly.

 _ **~~~ for those who skipped, you may resume reading here ~~~**_

Isabella's body trembled but she did not speak.

"What?" The king asked incredulously. "Have I finally silenced the insolent bitch? No biting retorts, gypsy? Have you sheathed that sharp tongue at last?"

Edward grabbed her chin and lifted her face to meet his. Her azure eyes sparkled pitifully up at him.

"What do you see when you look into my eyes, gypsy?"

Isabella's quivering lips opened and closed a few times before her tongue could form words.

"I see a man with a broken heart," she whispered falteringly.

"And I see a girl with a broken body," Edward scoffed, squeezing his hand firmly around her throat.

Isabella's eyes flashed in the dim light as she muttered: "Not yet."

The king snarled and pressed his nose to hers.

"Your insolence will be the death of you yet," he growled. "Why are you so keen to throw away your life?"

"Perhaps I am too young to know the value of life," she said weakly, her breaths becoming haggard as the king's hold tightened.

"No, that is not it," he said, his grip loosening a little. "Your arrogance is not based in ignorance."

"Perhaps, then, it comes from a darker experience," she said hoarsely. "Perhaps I have seen death and know that your face is nothing like his."

"Death?" Edward said scornfully, his fingers tightening around her throat again. "Where would you have seen Death?"

"Last month I saw him in the streets of Baghdad," she gasped, "he gave a man I once knew a terrible look."

"What did he want with him?" the emperor asked.

"That was what I asked Death," Isabella said, her speech becoming slow and labored.

"And what did he say?" Edward asked, grasping her throat even more tightly.

"He said -"

But Isabella could not finish her story. Her limbs went limp as she finally, mercifully, faded into unconsciousness.

"What did he say?" Edward roared. "Wake up, bitch! What did Death say?"

Edward let go of her neck and backhanded the unconscious girl across her face but she did not stir. He growled in frustration and took his knife from his boot. He slashed the blade through the air and cut the rope holding Isabella's battered body aloft. The girl crumpled to the ground, her long limbs sprawled out across the floor.

Edward growled and kicked her one last time before stalking up the stairs and back into the main palace.

Jasper knew something was wrong. The vizier paced the throne room agitatedly, sweat glistening on his furrowed brow.

Normally by this time the king would be seated on his golden throne, ordering yet another young girl to be sent to the slaughter. But he was nowhere to be found.

"Where is he?" Jasper roared to the empty room. He scowled and stormed out of the throne room, walking as fast as he could to the king's chambers without breaking into a run.

The guards, however, were not poised by the king's doors. The armed escort were lined up outside the hidden door leading down into the dungeons. The ancient prison was no longer in use but Edward had kept it open just in case there should ever be a renewed purpose for it. Apparently he had found one.

The vizier's lip curled in a furious snarl as the concealed door to the dungeons opened and Edward stumbled out, still obviously intoxicated.

Edward shielded his amber eyes from the bright sunlight streaming in through the open windows.

"Where is the girl?" Jasper hissed, his hands clenched into fists. "What have you done with her?"

"Nothing the bitch didn't deserve," he mumbled.

The king reeled on his feet, clutching his throbbing head as his drink finally caught up with him.

"What did Death say?" He asked Jasper dazedly.

"You are drunk," Jasper growled disdainfully. The vizier gestured to the guards: "Take him to his chambers. Have the servants sober him up. He has two foreign counsels to meet with this morning."

As the guards led the inebriated emperor back to his chambers, Jasper ducked into the hidden doorway and ran down the stairs.

"Isabella?" He called into the darkness. A hint of desperation crept into his voice when she did not answer. But then he saw her...

The girl's ivory skin was bruised purple and red from the lashings Edward had given her, and the only parts of her face not covered with dirt were those over which her tears had flowed.

"Isabella!" Jasper cried, jumping down the last few feet of stairs and falling to his knees beside the girl.

He pulled her gently in his arms, softly undoing the ropes binding her wrists. He pulled off his own shirt and slipped it over her head, holding her gently as he pulled it down to conceal her nakedness before carrying her up the stairs.

Isabella's eyes fluttered open as he climbed up the long, winding staircase to the palace. She moaned slightly, the pain in her head too much to bear.

"Don't worry Isabella," Jasper murmured, clutching her tighter. "I am going to get you some help."

The palace doctor shuddered when he saw what lay beneath Jasper's shirt. The young woman before him had endured a horrific attack.

"Jasper," he breathed, letting the shirt fall, "what has possessed him?"

Isabella's eyes were clamped tightly shut but there was no question that she was conscious. Tears spilled from beneath her eyelashes and her body trembled with each painful breath she took.

"This is all my fault," the vizier sighed angrily. "I could have stopped him. I let him send all those women to their deaths. Now he is going to kill this one personally."

Carlisle flashed Jasper a pointed glare and then glanced back at the girl. The doctor was a firm believer in the power of positive thinking and was loathe to hear anyone admit a dire thought - especially in front of a patient.

Jasper bowed slightly in an expression of regret and was about to leave the room when a slim, shaking hand grabbed his.

Isabella smiled sympathetically up at Jasper, winding her fingers through his as she did.

"Please stay," she said, her raspy voice barely audible. "Not your fault."

"It is," he said. "I am so sorry Isabella."

"Not your fault," she said in as firm a whisper as she could manage.

Jasper pressed her fingers in his gently and nodded down at her, grateful for her words and yet powerfully ashamed that she should have had to offer them when she, herself, was in such a desperate state.

"Her injuries appear to be mostly superficial," Carlisle murmured. "But she is clearly weakened from a lack of nutrition and hydration as well."

He looked at Jasper sternly: "She needs food, water, and rest. I can treat her but she needs time to recover."

"He will be back for her tonight," Jasper said grimly. "After his general appointments he has a meeting with the district representatives but that will only keep him occupied until sundown."

The doctor sighed and rubbed his eyes but he nodded and waved Jasper away: "See if you can get us any more time."

Jasper nodded and turned to leave but, before his fingers could slip from Isabella's, she gripped his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze: "He won't kill me."

The vizier squeezed her fingers back and brushed a stray lock of hair from her face before leaving the doctor to treat her. Edward may not have ordered her execution yet but the day was still far too young for such a desperate hope.

Carlisle helped the girl to sit up so that she could sip at a cold, pungent herbal drink.

"I know it smells terrible," the doctor chuckled good-naturedly as he prepared a cooling paste for her welts, "and, believe me, it tastes worse, but it will do wonders for the pain."

Isabella nodded and gulped the remedy down, struggling to ignore its gritty, stomach-churning consistency. She finished it just as Carlisle came to help her out of Jasper's shirt. The old man gently pulled the linen over her head, breathing in sharply when the full extent of the whip marks became apparent.

The girl hugged herself, tears glistening in her eyes as she tried to shield her body from the doctor.

"I am not going to hurt you, my dear," Carlisle said gently. "I'm just going to treat your wounds."

"I know," she said, her voice faltering. "It's just so... I'm ashamed."

"This is not your fault, Isabella," the doctor said firmly. "You do not need to be ashamed. He has wronged you."

"I have endured worse," she said. "But I thought -"

The girl stopped and choked back a sob, silent tears beginning to drip down her cheeks.

"I'll going to start with your back, all right?" Carlisle said. "We have precious little time to treat you."

Isabella nodded and closed her eyes as he dabbed the paste onto the stinging marks on her back. The mixture felt like a jolt of ice - numbing and cooling her damaged flesh at the same time.

Carlisle helped her to lie on her back and then began dabbing the paste across the rest of her body. The girl sighed with relief as the pain slowly melted away.

"Is it helping?" The doctor asked.

"Yes, it is," Isabella said softly. "Thank you."

"Do not thank me, child," he smiled. "This is my duty."

"Is Jasper going to be all right?" She asked. "I do not want him to suffer for my sake."

"Do not worry for him," Carlisle said brusquely.

"You blame him for letting this escalate, don't you?" Isabella asked.

The doctor looked up at her and was shocked by the strength of her gaze. The tears that had filled her eyes just moments before had vanished - the only trace that they had ever existed were the trails of moisture on her cheeks. Her blue eyes were sharp and focused.

"He saw this coming before it started," Carlisle muttered finally. "He wanted too badly to believe in the goodness of his friend. But that man is gone."

Isabella nodded and closed her brilliant eyes, releasing the doctor from their piercing gaze.

"I've been meaning to ask you about your tattoos," Carlisle said as he pulled a blanket gently over the girl's slim frame. "They are Volturi symbols, are they not?"

Isabella's eyes opened and she nodded: "How did you know?"

"I have done dealings with those enigmatic nomads," he said. "Their medicine men and women are revered for their healing powers."

"Then you have heard of this ritual," she said. "They use the tattoos to heal physical wounds."

"Yes," Carlisle chuckled. "It's a myth all doctors love to hear."

"It's no myth," she said.

Isabella's eyes suddenly grew very heavy and she glanced at the doctor sleepily: "Am I supposed to feel tired?"

"Yes, child," he said, offering her a kind smile. "That's the medicine taking its effect. You sleep now, you need to get your rest."

Isabella nodded and a few moments later was peacefully asleep.

Carlisle tried to laugh off the girl's statements as he tidied up the infirmary but he could not. He had heard stories of a ritual that could cleanse the body of all manner of wounds, but he had never seen someone with the tattoos before. And yet those were Volturi symbols. So she must have received them during a tribal ritual... He sighed and continued rearranging his herbs and poultices, lost in his own thoughts.

Jasper returned to the infirmary just as the last rays of the dying sun were settling below the horizon. He found Carlisle at his desk, surrounded by scrolls.

"How is she?" The vizier asked earnestly.

The doctor started as if he had not heard Jasper enter.

"She is doing as well as can be expected," Carlisle said, hastily rolling up the scroll he had been reading as he rose from his desk. "I checked on her briefly but she was still sleeping. Come with me and we will look in on her again."

"He is going to be coming for her soon," Jasper said quietly as they walked through the infirmary to Isabella's bed. "God only knows what fresh hell he has in mind for her tonight."

"Jasper," Carlisle said sharply, "how many times must I tell you?"

"Sorry, sorry," the vizier muttered. "I just find it difficult to be optimistic when it comes to Edward."

Carlisle said nothing but nodded as he pushed open the door that guarded Isabella's bed. The girl was still asleep but the welts on her arms had decreased significantly and there was no evidence in pain in her peaceful expression.

"May I wait with her till he comes?" Jasper asked.

The doctor sighed but nodded. He exited the room without another word, leaving Jasper to sit in silence at Isabella's bedside.

Jasper heard Edward coming long before he burst into Isabella's room. He rose to his feet and planted a quick, chaste kiss on Isabella's forehead, running his fingers through her hair gently. The girl stirred but did not wake, not even as Edward pushed open the door.

The king walked to stand on the other side of Isabella's bed. His molten eyes took in the pale, slim girl as if for the first time.

Jasper watched his friend's eyes linger on the girl's face and realized that this was the first time Edward had seen the girl while he was sober. He stared at the king intently, hoping beyond hope for a flicker of remorse to pass over his countenance.

If it did, Jasper did not see it.

Edward looked up at Jasper, suddenly aware of his scrutiny.

"How is she?" He asked, his voice empty of any real concern for her well-being.

"Carlisle says well enough," Jasper replied curtly. "But she ought to stay here the night."

"Unfortunately, the little gypsy has a prior engagement," he said darkly.

Jasper's hands instinctively clenched into fists.

"Wake her," Edward said, ignoring the rage in his friend's eyes.

Jasper sighed and bent down: "Isabella, it's time to wake up now."

He brushed a stray lock of hair from the girl's face and offered her a rueful smile as her sapphire eyes opened.

Isabella glanced up at Jasper and then Edward, clasping the sheets to her chest as she sat up to keep herself covered.

Edward's breath caught in his throat when her wary gaze met his. He had forgotten how stunning her azure eyes were... He wanted those eyes staring up at him with his cock halfway down her throat.

"Leave us, Jasper," Edward said gruffly.

Jasper breathed in sharply but did as he was commanded, catching the girl's eyes for one last meaningful glance before he left the room.

"Gypsy, you have a story to finish telling me," Edward said.

"Now?" She asked quietly.

"No," he said. "Not yet, not here."

Isabella swallowed nervously and fidgeted with the sheets.

"Are you prepared to go to my chambers willingly tonight?" Edward asked. "Or will my guards have the pleasure of escorting you?"

"May I have something to wear?"

"I don't really see the point," Edward said, his amber eyes glowing.

Isabella's fingers tightened around the sheets: "What are you going to do with me?"

"Whatever the fuck I want," Edward said.

"I will go," Isabella said slowly, her eyes flashing. "But know that I go only out of duty to the debt I owe Jasper and not out of any sense of respect or fealty to you."

Edward's smug smile faded and his upper lip curled in anger: "Your impertinence has already earned you one lashing, if I were you I would think very carefully about what you say over the course of this evening."

The girl glared at him, the sting of his whip suddenly fresh in her mind. As much as she loathed the thought of feeling it again, she would not cower before a tyrant.

Edward snapped his fingers and immediately two armed guards entered the tiny room and grabbed her upper arms. Isabella tried to keep hold of the sheets, but as the guards pulled her roughly out of bed, the fabric fell from her body, leaving her naked.

Isabella struggled to free herself from the guards' tight hold, painfully aware that Edward's molten eyes were fixed on her body.

"Please let me cover myself!" She cried indignantly.

Edward smirked: "Stop pretending to have any sense of modesty, gypsy."

"Perhaps you ought to try pretending to have a sense of decency," she spat.

"I'm warning you, girl, mind that tongue of yours."

"Or what?" Isabella hissed. "I'll lose it? Last night you implied you had far more lewd plans for my tongue than cutting it out."

The guards grasping her arms shifted uncomfortably in the silence that followed. The only sound was that of Isabella's heavy breathing as she kept up her struggle to twist away from her captors.

Edward finally gestured to his guards to let the girl go.

The guards released her without hesitation. Isabella immediately knelt to the ground, wincing at the effort as she wound the sheet around her body, clutching the fabric closed before her breasts. She rose to her feet slowly, her eyes meeting Edward's once again.

The king's lips curved into a smile at the mistrust in her eyes. She was right to be wary of him.

He turned around to leave the room, but just as Isabella moved to follow him, he spun on his heel and backhanded her across her face so hard that her knees crumpled beneath her.

Isabella moaned on the floor as Edward loomed above her, his cognac eyes burning.

"Or that," he said, smiling grimly.

"Pick her up," he said to the guards as he stalked out of the room. "I don't give a shit whether she's naked or not."

Isabella had gathered her wits about her enough to latch on tightly to the sheet covering her body. She gripped it as if her life depended on it as the guards pulled her to her feet by her upper arms.

Her cheek stung and it was all she could do to keep from crying, but Isabella held her head high as they marched through the palace. She would endure the pain again if it meant preserving even the slightest shred of her dignity.

When they reached Edward's chambers, the guards walked Isabella through the doors and released her, returning immediately to flank their king in the hallway.

"I have one more piece of business to attend to," Edward said curtly. "In the meantime, get yourself cleaned up, gypsy."

Edward's eyes raked her body and then returned to meet her gaze: "You look awful."

The guards pulled the doors shut and Isabella heard a bolt slide into place and then the booted footsteps of the king and his escort. They faded into silence, and then she was alone.

The girl looked around the empty room, taking it in for the first time. The chamber was majestic, sumptuous and cold. No amount of rich fabrics or priceless marble could make up for the fact that this room was void of any trace of its inhabitant. There were no paintings, no books, no maps. Edward owned everything in that room but nothing in it was his. But for the grandeur of the chamber, it could have belonged to anyone.

Isabella had been in a room like this once before. A dark, rich room filled with cold treasures... She shivered at the memories, banishing them to the back of her mind as she hugged herself tightly.

She walked over to a set of doors on the opposite side of the chamber and pushed them open to reveal the king's private baths. There were scented oils and soaps laid out in perfect order beside the pool of water. She wondered if Edward meant for her to use them. But, then again, the man had given her nothing to wear after bathing... She sighed and returned to the main chamber.

There was another set of doors on the other side of the room. She pulled at the wrought iron handles but they did not open.

"Perhaps these were the queen's chambers?" She whispered to herself, backing away from the locked doors.

Isabella glanced around the room again. She figured she had two options: The first would be to remain swaddled in a sheet, covered in the remains of medicinal paste, until Edward returned. The second would be to make herself quite at home in the king's chambers, use his soaps and oils, wrap herself in his velvet robe, and pour herself a glass of his expensive wine.

The girl's mouth twitched in a smile as she let the sheet fall from her body and strode towards Edward's baths. If he expected her to cave in to his abuse, he was sadly mistaken.

Isabella stepped into the water slowly, gasping as the warm water slowly enveloped her limbs. Her wounds stung at first, but soon the water felt soothing and refreshing. She was liberal with her use of Edward's soaps and oils, and, when she finally emerged from the water, her skin and hair were perfumed with the scents of imported sandalwood and cardamom.

Isabella poured herself a glass of wine while she was still naked. She took a sip of the mulled liquid and sighed as the alcohol settled in her stomach, warming her from the inside out.

She set the goblet down and walked over to Edward's closet.

"Well, I think I can guess what your favorite color is," Isabella scoffed, taking in the various shades of red that dominated Edward's wardrobe.

A flash of blue caught Isabella's eye and she dug through the mass of scarlet fabric until she pulled out a royal blue, sleeveless robe. It was embroidered with gold and bronze stitching and, although it was beautiful, it was far too big for her: It trailed on the ground as she walked and she had to loop the sash around her waist three times.

Isabella picked up the glass of wine and walked out onto the balcony, staring up at the stars that were beginning to appear in the darkening sky. The stars had been her only solace and comfort for many years until they, too, had been stolen from her.

The young girl's eyes glimmered with tears and turned her back on the night sky. Sometimes she wondered why she had been dealt these hands in her life. As if on cue, her tattoos started to tingle - they always did that whenever she began to feel sorry for herself. She inhaled deeply and turned around again, raising her face to the sky.

Edward pushed open the doors to his chamber wearily. It had been a long day: He was tired, hangover, and in no mood to deal with the gypsy's sass.

His room was dark; the girl had not lit a single lamp. Edward lit one of the lamps beside the door, cocking his head when he noticed the girl was nowhere to be seen.

"Gypsy?" He called, continuing to light the room. "Where are you?"

Isabella walked in from the balcony slowly, still sipping on her glass of wine.

Edward turned around when he heard her footsteps and gasped slightly when he saw her. She was wearing his blue robe, the one he had worn the day of his wedding, and it brought out the color of her eyes in a fierce way. She had looped the sash around her waist tightly, emphasizing how slender it was, and every step she took, her long legs flashed from between the folds of indigo fabric.

The king stared at her breathlessly, not certain whether he was angry at her or not. The brazen girl was wearing his clothing, drinking his wine...

"You didn't give me anything to wear," she said, as if reading his thoughts.

"I didn't give you permission to rifle through my closet or help yourself to my liquor either," he said without conviction. She looked stunning in that damn robe, and he wondered suddenly whether the wine would make her any looser.

"You said to clean myself up," she said, shrugging. "It sounded like an order."

"Are you going to follow my orders tonight?"

She took another sip of wine and cocked her head at him: "Do you want me to finish my story?"

Edward nodded and began to undress in front of the girl. Isabella was silent for a moment as the king pulled off his shirt, revealing his broad chest and tight abdomen once again.

The king caught her gaze and raised a brow at her: "Death saw a friend of yours in the market."

"I remember," Isabella said quickly, averting her eyes. "Death gave a man I once knew a terrible look. Death went on his way but the man spied me and begged me for my horse.

"'Where will you go?' I asked him. He said that he would take my horse and go to Mosul, where Death would not find him."

"Did you give it to him?" Edward asked, pulling off his pants.

Isabella's breath caught in her throat at the sight of his member. She drew her eyes up quickly, her cheeks burning at the smugness that flickered in Edward's eyes.

"I did," she said.

Edward turned his back to her and walked into his bathing chamber, motioning for her to follow over his shoulder. He sunk down into the water with a sigh of relief and then gestured for her to continue.

"But after I gave him my horse I went in search of Death. I found him shortly thereafter, picking through the beggars along the wharf.

"'Death,' I said, 'why did you give my friend such a terrible look this morning? You gave him an awful fright.'

"Death was apologetic: 'I did not mean to startle him,' he said. 'It's just I did not expect to see him here.'

"'Why not?' I asked. 'This is where he lives.'

"'I know,' Death said. 'But I have a meeting with him tonight in Mosul.'"

Edward looked up at the girl curiously, the ghost of a smile flickering about his lips: "That is the shortest story I have ever heard."

Isabella shrugged and drained her glass.

She glanced into the empty cup and then looked at Edward: "Not that I owe you the courtesy, but would you like me to pour you a glass?"

The king's amber eyes smoldered but they did not harden. He nodded at the girl, stealing a glance at her swaying hips over his shoulder as she walked away. He wanted to hold onto those slim hips as she rode his cock. He closed his eyes and leaned back in the water, his balls tightening at the thought.

"Here," she said, suddenly standing over him. He reached up to take the glass of wine she offered him.

Isabella lifted the robe and sat down on the edge of the pool, dangling her legs in the water. Edward swallowed at the expanse of her creamy thigh that was visible.

Suddenly there was a sharp rap on the door. Isabella was on her feet in a moment. The king looked at her amusedly as he stood up and climbed the steps out of the pool.

"Don't look so anxious," he said. "It's just the servants."

Edward handed Isabella his glass of wine so that he could wrap a towel around his waist. He opened the door to his chambers, ushering in a pair of servants laden with food. They set the trays down on the table and exited, bowing repeatedly as they went.

As Edward closed the door, Isabella's stomach growled. In all that had happened, she had forgotten that she had not eaten in days.

The king sat down at the table, motioning for Isabella to bring him his wine. She handed it to him and then turned away from the table so that Edward could not catch her staring hungrily at the spiced bread and stewed meats.

Edward began eating, eyeing the girl as he spooned meat onto his plate. He, too, came to the realization that the girl was probably starved.

"Did Carlisle feed you?" He asked.

The girl shook her head.

"Aren't you going to ask to join me, then?" He asked. Perhaps the little gypsy was too proud to beg, that was why she simply took what she wanted instead.

"I asked you for clothes earlier," she said, the faintest tinge of bitterness in her voice. "You could not offer me a servant's rag to wear - why should you offer me a place at your table?"

"And yet, despite my refusal to clothe you, here you are dressed in embroidered silks," Edward said.

The girl shrugged and placed her half-finished wine beside the decanter, making her way out to the balcony once again.

"Do not walk away from me when I am talking to you, gypsy," the king said. "Come back and sit down."

Isabella stopped in her tracks and Edward watched with amusement as her small hands balled into fists. She turned around slowly and sat down opposite him at the small table, her azure eyes glinting.

"You do not like taking orders," Edward said simply.

"No," she said. "I wore the halter for many years and never got used to it."

"Who was your master?"

"He is dead," she said, her eyes leaving Edward's to stare at the food before her.

The king looked at the girl hard, wondering why she refused to answer his question. He only broke the silence when he noticed her longing gaze.

"Gypsy, you may eat," Edward said, "but only if you do something for me first."

"And what is that?" She asked warily.

"Take off that robe, get down on your knees, and suck my cock," he said.

"Sadly, I have completely lost my appetite," Isabella snapped, rising from the table indignantly.

Edward smiled as she stalked off to the balcony. Her former master may not have been man enough to tame her, but he was and he would.

"Fine, come back," he said. He grabbed a piece of bread and held it out to her: "Here you go."

Isabella walked back to him but, before she could even reach for the piece of bread, Edward dropped it on the floor.

"There you go, gypsy," he said. "If you don't want to suck my cock, you can eat off the floor."

The girl shuddered at the pain that welled suddenly in her heart. Her tattoos burned at the injustice she felt inside.

"What did I do?" She whispered, her eyes sparkling.

Edward merely shrugged, his lips curved in a smug smile.

"I am not an animal, I will not eat from the floor."

"Then suck my cock."

Isabella turned away from him: "I think you better get your whip."

"Is that the only thing you respond to?" Edward taunted. "Or perhaps it's just my cock you don't want to suck... Would you get on your knees for your precious Jasper?"

The girl scowled over her shoulder at him, her eyes blazing.

"I thought you gave me your life," Edward said.

"I did," she said, spinning on her heel to face him. "But not my obedience."

Edward rose out of his chair and took two menacing steps towards her: "What is that going to cost?"

"Let me know when you figure that one out."

Edward grabbed a fistful of Isabella's hair at the base of her neck and pulled her to her knees sharply.

"Suck my cock like a good little whore or eat off the floor like a bitch," he growled down at her. "Those are your choices."

"I could just starve," she said through gritted teeth, wincing as Edward tightened his grip on her hair in response.

"Fine, you stubborn little shit," Edward hissed, letting go of her hair. "Starve."

Isabella grimaced as her stomach growled loud enough for Edward to hear.

The king chuckled grimly as he sat down at the table again and loosed his towel, his eyes fixed on Isabella as she promptly looked away.

Edward began to stroke his cock, coaxing it quickly to its full length. His chest rose and fell sharply as his balls grew heavy. He groaned as he waited for Isabella to give in and wrap her lips around his dick. Finally the girl turned her face towards him. His muscles steeled as her gaze slowly roamed over his body before finally meeting his.

"Come on, girl," he said darkly, "you know you want it."

"What I want is food."

"I have plenty of meat for you," he said. "Come show me what a good little cocksucker you are."

Edward chuckled as Isabella began to crawl on her hands and knees towards him but his self-satisfied smile faded quickly when she stopped and picked up the piece of bread he had thrown to the floor instead.

The king was on his feet in an instant, smacking the piece of bread from her hands. Before Isabella had a chance to cry out in protest, Edward's powerful hands were on either side of her head, forcing his cock inside her mouth.

Isabella gagged as Edward shoved his dick down her throat, holding her firmly in place so that she could not push him away, try as she might. He groaned at the feeling of her throat clenching tightly around his cock.

 _ **Alright then, that's chapter 3. I hope you like it.**_

 _ **As stated before, I did put a notice before and after the more graphic and violent part of the story.. I hope that is okay.**_

 _ **I really love the response and reviews I had with the first and second chapter. I love the suggestions given and I like that you call me out on my mistakes since I believe that will make me a better writer. So keep them coming.**_

 _ **XOXO Kate :D**_


	4. Chapter 4

The King and His Isabella

Chapter 4

 **Disclaimer: All twilight characters are not mine. Just the plot of the story.**

"Fuck that feels good," he breathed. Edward looked down at the girl and growled under his breath when he saw that her eyes were clamped tightly shut.

"Open your eyes," he said. "Look at me."

Isabella's sapphire eyes fluttered open and she stared up at Edward, tears gleaming in her eyes at the unholy lust she saw in his.

Edward moaned as he slowly fucked the girl's throat, his eyes fixed on hers as he pushed his hard dick in and out of her mouth. He had not realized how much he needed to feel her lips wrapped around his cock until that moment.

Isabella held back her tears as best she could but it was difficult when he was forcing her to stare up at him. She could feel his fingernails digging into her skull as he fucked her mouth and with each thrust he ground her face against the nest of dark hair that surrounded his cock.

Edward's pace quickened as he came closer and closer to cumming. His balls tightened and he moaned as he felt the pressure building. Finally he pulled out of her mouth and held her face before his cock as he came, covering her cheeks and lips with his cum. He panted as he stared down at her cum-covered face, laughing breathlessly as a single tear dripped down the girl's cheek, mixing with his semen.

He let go of her with one hand and wiped the tip of his dick across her lips before releasing her completely. Isabella slumped to her knees, unshed tears filling her eyes.

"Get up," Edward said, wrapping himself in his robe and returning to his seat at the table. "Go clean your face."

Isabella stood up slowly and retreated to the king's bathing chamber. She knelt down by the edge of the pool and brought handfuls of water to her face, washing away the cum and tears covering her cheeks. She sat staring at the ripples in the water for a while, so lost in her own thoughts that she did not realize Edward had entered the room.

"Gypsy?" Edward asked.

Isabella started at the king's voice and rose to her feet slowly.

"I thought you were hungry," he said.

The girl nodded, water still sparkling on her face.

"Come eat then."

Isabella followed him back into the main room. He pushed out the chair for her and then sat back down.

The girl sat down and reached tentatively for a piece of bread, as if expecting him to slap it away from her at any moment. Edward watched her as she nibbled at the spiced loaf.

"When was the last time you ate?" He asked, his voice lacking its usual gruffness.

Isabella shrugged: "A few days ago. Before the storm."

"Then you are right to restrain yourself," he said. "Your body will need to readjust to food."

She nodded and resumed her quiet eating. Edward had long forgotten the half-finished plate in front of him.

"The storm wrecked the vessel you were aboard?" He asked. He knew he should not care where she came from. She was a wandering vagrant - of no consequence to anyone.

"Yes," she said. "I was hoping to -"

The girl stopped mid-sentence and shook her head: "It does not matter now."

"You were alone?"

Isabella nodded.

"The only reason your description of me as a gypsy is accurate is because I have no home," she said. "But I am not kin to that nomadic people."

Edward was a perceptive man, and however depressed and angry he might have become, his powers of observation and his judgment of character had not faded. The girl was not what she seemed - her accent was refined, her diction was impeccable. He had known from the moment he saw her that she was no gypsy.

"Can you read?" He asked abruptly.

Isabella nodded.

"Did your former master teach you?"

The girl's eyes narrowed and her jaw set: "No. He did not."

"Well he certainly didn't teach you obedience," Edward said, his tone rough again.

"He tried," she said. "If you could read these tattoos, you would understand."

"I don't give a damn what he did to you," Edward said. He stood up from his seat and went to pour himself another glass of wine.

"Eat some meat," he said, sitting down again.

Isabella lifted a piece of fish onto her plate and began to eat slowly, savoring each well-seasoned bite. She wondered when he would let her eat like this again.

"Tell me another story," Edward said, swirling his wine contemplatively.

"What kind of story?"

"Anything," Edward said, rubbing his forehead with one hand.

Isabella swallowed her last bite of fish and then stared at the king long and hard.

"Do you keep falcons?" She asked.

Edward nodded, his burning gaze fixed on the girl.

"Then you have seen the cunning and ruthlessness of a predator in the yellow eyes of an animal. But, can you imagine it in the eyes of a man?"

The walls of the chamber seemed to melt away with the girl's words and, in his mind's eye, Edward suddenly found himself in the middle of the desert, staring into the yellowed eyes of a hardened criminal. Nothing else existed while she spoke, not even the dull throb of the king's broken heart.

"Qadir was such a man," she said, her eyes flashing, as if she had known this man herself and his existence made her angry and fearful all at once. "The kind of man that even the most deadly animals shy away from. The kind of man whose own mother would have drowned him in infancy had she known what he was to become.

"His real name was known to only one person. The rest of the kingdom knew him only as Qadir, the Bandit of Baghdad and King of the Forty Thieves."

"Who knew his real name?" Edward asked when Isabella paused for more than a second.

"His brother," she said. "But where he was or what his name was, was just as much of a mystery.

"It was rumored that Qadir's brother looked just like him. But, even if it happened to be true, no one knew what Qadir looked like. He was always swathed in black, appearing out of the shadows of the dunes like a wraith, and the only part of his face visible beneath the dark mask he always wore were those yellow eyes."

Isabella glanced at Edward. Although his eyes were fixed on her, she suspected he was in another world.

"Qadir and his bandits were becoming increasingly brazen with each successful raid. No merchant leaving or entering the city was safe. An attack on the city itself seemed imminent."

Isabella stopped when Edward's leg brushed against hers under the table. He did not move it away.

"Keep going," he murmured.

"The city could not hope to fight Qadir head-on," she continued. "The army was small, undisciplined, untrained. Qadir's men were elite warriors. They were vicious, ruthless... The city's only hope was to find a way to outsmart the bandit.

"But who could they send that Qadir would not kill on sight? Who would dare attempt to infiltrate the robbers' ranks? If discovered, the punishment would certainly be death."

Isabella paused for a moment, smiling slightly to herself: "Only a fool."

"A fool indeed," Edward smirked. "What was this fool's name?"

"Mo."

Edward snorted in spite of himself.

"A bigger fool than Mo had never blundered through the streets of Baghdad. He was a handsome young rogue with a kind heart and a thick head. The only being who never tried to take advantage of Mo's good looks and dim wits was Noor. His camel."

Edward's lips twitched into a smile.

"Don't laugh," Isabella said quickly. "Noor was the cleverest camel that ever existed.

"If she could have talked Mo out of the plan she would have. But Mo was easily swayed by the city council's arguments. He had no thought for danger.

"He waltzed out into the desert as if he owned it, Noor grumbling behind him all the way. Occasionally she would take a gentle nip at his behind, making him howl and swat at her good-naturedly.

"Finally Noor got so fed up with Mo that she jogged in front of him and spat full in his face.

"And that was when the desert echoed with a sound that had never been heard before. A harsh, grating sound that sent shivers through the bandits' bones. A sound so peculiar that Noor turned around and brayed in response just in case it happened to be a camel with a vicious cold."

Isabella paused and cocked her head at the king, who was looking bemusedly at her.

"What was it?" Edward prompted when she did not continue.

"Qadir's laugh," the girl said simply.

Edward chuckled quietly to himself, imagining the desert echoing with the dark guffaws of a man unused to smiling. How the bandit's cheeks would have ached...

The king suddenly realized that Isabella's brilliant eyes were fixed on him. She was waiting for him to ask for more.

He licked his lips and leaned forward across the table: "We will let the servants clear this away if you are satisfied. Then I want to hear more."

Isabella rose from the table with Edward. The king tapped on the door and oversaw the servants as they removed the platters of food and replaced them with a bowl of dried fruit and nuts.

He latched the door shut again and turned around to find the girl staring at him. He walked up to her slowly, his keen eyes taking in the way her lips began to tremble ever so slightly with apprehension as he closed the gap between them.

Edward leaned forward, almost kissing her as he spoke: "Did you come from the sea or a story?"

The young girl's breath caught in her throat as she found herself trapped in the liquid amber of Edward's eyes. In that instant, the king grabbed hold of her waist and pulled her towards him, silencing her with a kiss.

Isabella's eyes widened and then closed. She did not know what to think or do other than accept the kiss.

Edward pulled away from her ever so slightly and stared deeply into her eyes. Isabella realized all at once and all too late that he was hungry for much more than a kiss.

"Don't you want to hear the rest of the story?" She asked anxiously, trying to push Edward away from her.

"My loins do not ache for your stories," Edward purred.

The king scooped her into his arms and walked her across the room, refusing to let her struggle away. He threw her onto the bed and pulled off his robe.

As Edward climbed onto the bed, Isabella tried to back away from him but she quickly found herself tangled in his silken sheets.

"My loins ache for your body," Edward growled lustily, grabbing at her long legs and pulling her towards him. "I want that tight little body sweating beneath me. I want you to scream out my name and announce to the world that you are nothing but the sultan's slut."

Isabella yelped as the king looped his arm around her waist and pulled her tightly against his body. His skin was on fire and sweat dripped from his hair as she tried to struggle away.

"No, no, no," Edward rasped in her ear. "You aren't going anywhere."

"Edward! Ah, stop!" Isabella cried, trying as hard as she could to twist out of his grasp. "Let me go!"

The king laughed into her neck and then began to bite at her skin, making her scream with each painful bite. Edward's cruel mouth travelled up her neck slowly and then across her jaw until he captured her mouth in a searing, searching kiss. Isabella tried not to respond to the kiss and, as he drew away, Edward punished her by biting her lower lip and pulling it between his teeth until it slipped from between them.

"Come now, gypsy, surely that's not how your kind kiss."

"Stop this," Isabella said through gritted teeth.

"Well if you can't be useful, be quiet," Edward snarled beneath his breath, pressing his forearm against her throat to choke her into silence.

Isabella's sapphire eyes widened in shock as she struggled to breathe. She felt as if he might kill her then and there. Edward simply laughed darkly and then began to use his other hand to pull off the robe she was wearing. He tugged loose the knot at her waist and wrenched open the sash, pulling the robe wide so he could explore the gypsy's body.

He grabbed at her breasts and slapped them, his eyes never leaving hers as he pinched her nipples so harshly she couldn't help but let out a choked, agonized cry.

"Feels so good you want to scream, doesn't it?" He taunted. "Huh, little gypsy? Are you finally getting what you wanted? Your cunt must be on fire from want."

As he spoke, the king's hands raked down Isabella's body, leaving long, thin scratches down her flat stomach. His fiery eyes burned into the girl's eyes as he slid a hand between her thighs. With all the strength she could muster, Isabella bucked her hips and held her thighs tightly closed.

Edward broke his gaze so that he could press his face against the young girl's. His teeth dragged across her skin as he growled at her: "Why are you resisting? You want my cock, you fucking slut. You want this."

Isabella tried to scream but her choking cry was only met by Edward's harsh laughter. He moved his arm slightly for a moment to allow the girl a couple desperate breaths but then quickly pushed his forearm against her throat once more.

Isabella could feel her strength slipping from her with each passing moment. The king buried his face against her neck and groaned as he finally forced her thighs apart enough for his fingers to reach her sex.

The girl let out a muffled cry and bucked her hips as Edward pushed a finger inside her. The king's breath was hot on her neck as he slowly fucked her with his finger.

"Fuck, your pussy is as tight as your ass," he murmured darkly. "It's going to feel so good clenching around my cock."

Isabella clamped her eyes shut to keep her tears from spilling from them as Edward pushed his body between her legs. She could feel the length of his hardness rubbing against her lower belly as he settled between her thighs.

He pulled his fingers from her pussy and wiped them across her tits. Then he positioned his cock at the entrance of her sex and drove himself inside her. Hard.

Isabella let out a strangled cry as the king's length filled her. She could feel the tip of his cock pressing against her insides.

Edward moved his arm from her throat but placed his hand over her mouth to keep her moans muffled. Her pussy was so tight that he could barely move his cock inside her.

"I will go slowly," he said, moving his hips against hers in a circular motion. "So you can savor every inch of my cock."

A single tear glistened on Isabella's cheek as he began pumping in and out of her. She could feel his balls press against her with every stroke.

"You're my little whore," he whispered against her neck. "All mine."

Isabella moaned beneath his hand as he pushed his cock even deeper inside her, grinding his pelvis against hers.

"I can't help it," he sighed in her ear, "I need to have you. I need every inch of your body."

Edward did not pick up his pace as he came closer and closer to climax, but Isabella could hear in his voice that he was going to cum soon.

"I'm going to ruin you," he rasped. "No man will ever want you by the time I'm through with you."

Isabella's body shuddered under his. He did not care whether it was out of fear or pleasure, either would satisfy his dark needs. Suddenly Edward was cumming, groaning as he emptied his balls deep inside her.

"Fuck, I'm cumming," he breathed. "I'm cumming, you little shit."

Edward's own body shuddered as he finally buried the last of his seed deep in Isabella's tight pussy and collapsed on top of her.

The king lay on top of her for a few moments before he raised himself on one elbow and lifted his hand off her mouth.

Isabella's lips were trembling and her eyes flashed with anger and tears she had yet to shed.

Edward stared breathlessly into the girl's blazing blue eyes but quickly pushed himself off her when he caught a glimpse of his own reflection in her dark pupils. He looked like a wild man, his face contorted with lust. He stood up from the bed abruptly and walked to pick up his abandoned robe.

Isabella sat up in the bed slowly, covering herself with the robe Edward had torn from her.

The king walked into his bathing chambers and returned with a towel.

"Go clean off," he said, tossing the towel at her. "I don't want you getting cum on the sheets."

Isabella slid off the bed shakily, clutching at the towel as she walked into the next chamber. She pulled off the robe and stepped into the pool once again, letting the warm water wash the stains of sex from her limbs.

A few minutes later Edward walked into the room and picked up the robe she had been wearing.

"I will find something for you to wear," he said gruffly. "Hurry up and bathe."

Edward turned his back on the girl and stalked across his chambers to the locked doors that led to his ex-wife's chambers. He pulled a key from a small desk of drawers that stood by the doorway and turned it in the gold lock.

The king took a deep breath and pushed open the doors. He had not been in this room in months. He stepped inside hesitantly - nothing had changed. The servants had kept it exactly as Irina had left it. He steeled his nerves and walked to the queen's closet. He pulled the armoire open and sifted roughly through the garments. Every single item of clothing brought back a memory of his Irina... And he could not bear to see the gypsy in any one of them.

Edward growled and slammed the closet doors shut, exiting the chambers with such haste he almost forget to lock the doors behind him. He was just returning the key to its place in the chest of drawers when he heard Isabella pad softly back into his chamber.

He turned around and cleared his throat. She was wrapped in the towel he had given her but the cotton cloth barely covered her torso.

Isabella's eyes lit on him angrily and her fingers gripped the towel tightly: "Did you find something for me to put on?"

"No," he said. "I will have the servants bring you something in the morning."

"The morning?" Isabella repeated. "What am I to wear tonight?"

"I don't think you need to wear a damn thing," Edward said. He began putting out the lights in the room one by one until only the lamp by his bedside was lit.

"And where am I to sleep?" The girl asked icily.

"That is entirely your choice," Edward said, loosening his robe once again. He climbed into bed and made himself comfortable amongst the pillows.

"You can share my bed," he continued. "Or, you can pick a nice, comfy spot on the floor."

"I have slept on floors far colder and dirtier than your marble tiles," Isabella muttered.

"And yet I doubt you have slept in a bed as cosy as this one," Edward said.

The girl's brow furrowed and her sapphire eyes flittered between the bed and the floor.

"If this is to be my last night," she said finally, "then I suppose I should take advantage of your generosity."

Edward's eyes widened slightly as he remembered his threat the night before. The girl had already survived one day more than he had intended.

"Yes, you should," he said brusquely.

Isabella approached the bed slowly.

"Take the towel off and get in bed," Edward sighed in exasperation.

The girl slipped the towel off and climbed into bed, pulling the covers over herself and curling up as far away from the king as she could.

Edward chuckled slightly but did not say anything. He blew out the candle and closed his eyes, praying for sleep to take him. He could not be sure how long he lay there, his restless mind keeping him awake with its ceaseless ruminations. Finally he opened his eyes and looked around the darkened room. Moonlight streamed in through the open balcony doors and fell softly upon Isabella's sleeping form.

He moved over in the bed softly, trying not to wake the girl. He reached out a tentative hand and ran it through the fair curls that tumbled across the pillow, fingering one of the charms braided into her hair. Edward froze as Isabella moaned softly and rolled over. He let out a quiet sigh of relief as he realized she was still asleep.

Edward noticed then that one of her arms was above the covers and he began to study the tattoos that covered it carefully. They were Daarken, that much he knew, but his understanding of the strange language was rudimentary. He could make out only a few words: "arms", "eyes", "voice"... Edward was so lost in attempting to read the girl's tattoos that he did not notice the sudden expression of pain and fear that clouded her sleeping countenance. It was only when Isabella began to cry that he realized all at once she was in the grip of a terrible nightmare.

"No, no, no," the girl sobbed in her sleep. "Don't. No, no."

Edward pulled the girl into his arms, holding her gently against his chest as she cried. He had always thought it bad luck to wake a person while they were dreaming, a personal superstition he had had since childhood. He closed his eyes and held the trembling girl, planting reassuring kisses on her shoulder as she rambled nonsensically between sobs.

"Never surrender," she murmured. "Not to you."

Eventually the dream ended and Isabella's tears subsided but Edward fell asleep with his powerful arms wrapped around the girl. For a moment, at least, he could pretend to have someone who loved him in his arms.

 **~~oooo~~~**

 **Hi!**

 **Thanks for reading.**

 **First, I would like to thank all the people who checked in on my story those who reviewed and followed. It surely means a lot to me.**

 **I'm sorry I haven't been able to reply to all the reviews as I usually just check my email on my phone and it won't let me reply there. But I am grateful for each one. Each review, follow and favorite is like taking a bite of the most moist and decadent chocolate cake so please keep them coming.**

 **By the way, I would like to get your opinion. Per the response of the third chapter it seems that a longer chapter does not get as much response as the shorter ones like the first and second chapter. Please leave a review and tell me if you would rather have a longer chapter like chapter 3 or a shorter one like this chapter.**

 **Again, thank you all so much for your support. It means the world to me.**

 **XOXO Kate :D**


	5. New Chapter 5

The King and His Isabella

Chapter 5

 **Disclaimer: All twilight characters are not mine. Just the plot of the story.**

 **NOTE: YES! The plot is MINE and YES! I had it posted on another site however, I posted it in bad judgment and before I knew it the story became more than what I was intending it to be and IF you had ever been in that website, you would know that it was not intended for long, drawn out stories with happy or not happy endings. The people there do not care what happens to the characters, I actually got PM's telling me that it was a site for sex stories and when I started posting later chapters without it people were mean so I decided to post it and the rest of the story to a site which will appreciate it.**

 **I would actually like to apologize for posting the note earlier. I was rash and hurt. I knew I was being defensive but it was only because I am insecure enough about my writing skills without it being put into question. I thought that if I do not defend myself against this accusation then it will eventually bite me in the ass.**

 **I would like to thank a few people though for bringing back my confidence and assuring me that IT is okay to post the story in more than one site as long as the story is mine and that they brought back my excitement in posting this story here in this website.** _ **Suzy-Chapstick**_

 **And** _ **greygirl2358**_ **your words are what saved this story and I dedicate them to you. To those who are still reading, I thank you too and hope that you will continue to take this journey with me and Isabella.**

 **With that, I present you Chapter 5**

Edward's amber eyes opened with the first rays of the rising sun. The first thing he noticed was that the girl was not in his arms.

The king shot up in bed and glanced agitatedly around the room. The girl was nowhere to be seen. Edward threw off the covers and wrapped himself in his robe as he began to search the chamber. She was not in the bathing room, she had not found her way into the queen's quarters... Edward was about to storm out into the corridor and question his guards when he realized he had not checked the balcony.

Edward walked out onto the balcony, nervous for a moment that the girl had jumped. Instead he found her curled up in a corner, wrapped in the towel he had given her the night before.

"Wake up, gypsy," Edward said gruffly.

Isabella's eyes fluttered open and she looked around dazedly.

"Do you not remember making the decision to sleep out here?" Edward asked, his brow furrowing.

The girl grimaced as she pulled herself to her feet. Her head was pounding from dehydration and she swayed slightly as she stood before the king.

"May I have some water?" She asked, her voice hoarse.

"Answer me first."

"I just wanted to be beneath the stars," she murmured.

"You won't eat off the ground but given the choice between the floor and a bed, you'd choose the former," Edward taunted disdainfully. "You're a foolish girl."

He turned on his heel and walked inside, gesturing to a bottle on the table. Isabella poured herself a glass of water and sat down at the table, downing three glasses in quick succession as Edward dressed for the day.

When the king was fully clothed he turned his attention back on the girl: "You had a nightmare last night."

Isabella swallowed and turned her wide eyes away from Edward.

"Do you remember?"

The girl shook her head, staring pointedly at her knees.

"Fine," Edward muttered.

"I don't," Isabella said staunchly.

"Was it me?" Edward asked, pulling Isabella to her feet roughly. "Huh? Were you dreaming about me?"

"You wish," Isabella whispered angrily. "You could never live up to the man in my nightmares."

"Watch me try," Edward scowled.

"Why would you want to?" Isabella asked, her eyes blazing. "He was a monster. He deserved his death a thousand times over."

"I am well on my way to deserving the same," Edward said. His voice was thick with anger but, just before he turned away, Isabella could have sworn she saw sadness gleaming in his dark eyes.

"You will remain here," the king said as he walked to the door. "I will be back tonight."

Edward did not look back at the girl as he slammed the door shut behind him. He left his guards so they could watch over her and so that he could be alone with his thoughts.

The king walked through the palace slowly, eventually making his way to the inner courtyard. The gardens were still wrapped in morning's dewy embrace, and the heady perfume of dark blossoms filled the air.

Edward breathed in deeply, hoping that the fresh air would help clear his head. He did not know what to think: Not only had he let the girl live, but he had fallen asleep with her in his arms. He had not held a woman like that since his wife.

"Fool," he muttered, unsure as to whether he was addressing himself or the gypsy.

He wandered down the cobbled paths aimlessly until he found himself at the gnarled old tree he and Jasper used to climb as boys. It was the only one tall enough to give them a glimpse of the city that lay beyond the palace walls. He ran a hand over the knotted bark and was close to becoming lost in his memories when he heard footsteps.

Edward was the last person Jasper expected - or wanted - to see as he rounded the corner to his favorite place in the courtyard. He started when he saw the king standing beneath the old tree.

"Good morning, your highness," Jasper said, confusion evident in his voice.

"Do you remember this tree, Jasper?" Edward asked, staring up at the twisting branches above his head. "We used to pretend it was the mast of a sailing ship or the tower of the enemy's keep."

"I remember it well," Jasper said cautiously. The vizier studied his friend carefully, trying to figure out what could possibly have prompted him to venture here. And alone... the king's guards were nowhere in sight.

"I was never meant to marry Irina," Edward said suddenly, breaking Jasper's concentration. "Do you remember that, Jasper?"

The vizier's eyes narrowed but he nodded as the memories returned suddenly. He had not thought about the betrothal in years. Certainly it seemed a lifetime ago that Edward's father announced to the young prince that he was to be engaged to the princess of a powerful but tiny kingdom over the ocean.

"I can't even remember what her name was," the king said.

"It was an age ago," Jasper whispered.

"What?"

"It was an age ago," he said again. "I can't remember either."

"It was so strange to think of getting married," Edward reminisced.

Even the concept of a betrothal had seemed very strange to the two young men. Edward and Jasper had both assumed that the future King of kings would have the right to choose his own bride. For Edward to be engaged and to a girl years younger than him... well, the whole thing had seemed preposterous.

"Your father didn't even tell you," Jasper said. "Remember? If we hadn't have been trying to sneak into the harem, we never would have overheard him planning away your future."

"Didn't stop us from getting into the harem though, did it?" Edward chuckled slightly.

"I don't think wild dogs could have kept us from stealing a glance at those women," Jasper said. He could not help but smile at Edward's laughter. No matter what his friend had done, it warmed Jasper's heart to see him happy. Even if just for a moment.

"What ever happened to the princess, I wonder?" Edward mused.

"I don't know," Jasper said. "We were too young to care."

"Not to mention it was not long after that that my father passed," Edward said. "If I cared at all about the betrothal, I cared even less after that."

Jasper nodded solemnly, remembering how grief had struck at his friend like a sickness. It took over his life, consuming his every waking minute for years until, finally, Irina entered his life and reintroduced happiness to the king's countenance. That was another reason why her betrayal had shaken the very foundations of his sanity - she had been the one to pull him from the depths. Without her, there was nothing to keep him from sinking back into that dark place and staying there.

"Perhaps that was when my bad luck with women began," Edward chuckled darkly, finally turning his back to the old tree.

Jasper cleared his throat but did not comment.

"What appointments do I have this morning?" Edward asked, motioning for Jasper to follow him back to the palace.

"Um, this morning you have a military strategy meeting with your generals," Jasper said, quickly catching up with the king. The list of Edward's meetings for the day ran on until the pair stepped back inside the castle.

"A full day then," Edward said wearily after Jasper finished. "We'd best get started."

"Before we begin," Jasper said slowly, "where is Isabella?"

Edward stopped in his tracks and rounded on the vizier: "She is not your concern."

"I just want to know if she is still alive," Jasper said.

The king said nothing, simply reached into his pocket and pulled out the ivory charm Jasper had given the girl.

"Why did you give this to the gypsy?" He asked, dropping the charm in Jasper's outstretched hand.

"I wanted to," he said.

"You wanted a piece of flotsam to have the charm you carved for your mother?" Edward asked.

"Can you not see that she is something special?" Jasper countered exasperatingly.

"She is no more beautiful than any whore you'd find at a brothel," the king said dismissively. "She is a mouthy little slave girl who needs to be reminded of her place. And that is what I intend to do."

"Then she is still alive?" Jasper asked, hope creeping into his voice.

"For now," the king murmured, his eyes simmering. "But you'd do best not to mention her again."

Jasper inhaled deeply but nodded, bowing his head as Edward turned. He followed the king through the palace, his heart racing with the knowledge that the girl had survived, not one, but two nights.

Perhaps Edward would not kill her after all.

When Edward was gone, Isabella climbed back into the bed, pulling the sheets around herself and staring around the room.

She fell asleep for another hour or so. When she woke again there was no sign that any servants had come. She should have known better than to expect Edward to remember the clothes he had promised her.

Isabella climbed out of bed and wrapped Edward's robe around herself, shivering at the memories its scent evoked. She rolled her shoulders and walked over to the table. She plucked a handful of dried dates from the bowl and sat down, tucking her legs up on her chair as she nibbled at the sweet fruit.

Isabella waited patiently for hours, but no servants appeared.

Finally she pulled the door open and found herself face-to-face with two of Edward's armed guards.

"I need something to wear," she said, looking from one helmeted face to the other. "Please? The king said the servants would bring me something."

The guards looked at each other and then one pulled the door shut. Isabella gasped angrily in surprise but, just as she turned her back, the doors opened again to let Jasper in.

"Jasper!" The girl exclaimed, wrapping him in an embrace.

"Isabella, are you all right?" Jasper asked, his face in her neck.

The girl pulled away and shrugged, hugging the robe tighter around her body.

"Did he hurt you?"

"Not compared to how I used to be treated," she replied.

"I don't have much time," Jasper said apologetically. "And Edward can't know I was here."

"I understand," she murmured.

"What did he do to you?" Jasper whispered, running his hands down her arms.

The girl shrugged, refusing to look him in the eye.

"Isabella, please," Jasper said.

"You must understand, since I can remember I have been a slave, "she responded. "This is what fate has chosen for me."

"That does not mean that you have to resign yourself to this," the vizier said angrily. "I could have saved you!"

"If you had then you would be dead right now," she reminded him. "Instead we both have our lives."

"What kind of life is this?" He asked.

She smiled sadly: "Mine."

The girl took a step back so she was out of Jasper's reach: "He promised me clothes."

Jasper cleared his throat and nodded.

"I will have something brought for you," he said as he walked towards the doors.

"Please do not be angry with me, Jasper," Isabella whispered.

Jasper stopped in his tracks and turned to face the girl. The look in her eyes melted his heart - the thought of him being upset with her seemed to sting her even more sharply than Edward's whip.

"I am not angry with you," he said earnestly, walking back to catch her up in his arms. "How could I be angry with you? You saved my life."

The vizier hugged Isabella tightly, savoring the touch of her skin, before pulling away reluctantly.

"I must go," he said. "But I will make sure you are clothed. It is the least I can do."

"Thank you," the girl said.

She felt empty when the vizier closed the doors behind him. She had nothing to do now but wait for someone to bring her a dress, and then for Edward to tear it off her.

Night had long fallen by the time Edward returned to his chambers. He pushed open the doors wearily.

The girl was out on the balcony, leaning over the railing with her face raised to the stars. She did not turn around when she heard his footsteps.

He joined her on the balcony and looked up at the sky.

"Irina used to love coming out here to watch the stars find their places in the sky," he said softly. "She knew all the constellations."

"What did she do to you?" Isabella asked softly.

"She betrayed me for another man," he said, trying to keep all emotion from his responses. "After years and years of marriage, she tried to kill me in my sleep. But I overpowered her and the knife meant for my throat found hers instead."

"I am sorry," the girl whispered.

Edward turned to look at the girl and noticed suddenly that she was wearing a servant's shift. Isabella looked out of place in the plain dress - her long limbs were far too graceful to be clothed only in rough cotton.

"Where did you get that dress?" He asked.

"Adrienne brought it up for me," she replied, smoothing out the wrinkles.

"Adrienne?" The king asked sharply.

"He's one of your servants," Isabella answered, raising her eyebrows at him.

"Oh, yes, of course," Edward muttered, looking away from the girl.

"You don't know your own servants' names?" She asked.

"Why should I?" Edward snapped.

There was silence for a moment as Isabella looked away from the king's burning gaze.

"Come inside," Edward muttered, turning on his heel.

Isabella followed the king inside, wondering at how quickly the man's mood shifted.

Edward suddenly rounded on the girl, his amber eyes gleaming.

"Servants' garb suits you," he said mockingly. "But those charms in your hair do not."

Isabella's eyes widened and her hands went instinctively to her locks: "What?"

"Take them out," Edward said darkly.

"No, Edward," she said plaintively, "they are my only possessions."

"A couple shells and beads?" He asked scornfully.

"I-I've had them ever since I can remember," she said pleadingly. "They are my only clues to who I might have been."

"You think I give a shit?" Edward asked contemptuously. "Why would anyone care who you were? You're nothing and you always have been."

A tear dripped down Isabella's cheek and she lowered her eyes.

"Take them out," the king said slowly, pronouncing each word carefully.

"If I do, may I keep them?" She asked.

"Maybe," he said, a dark smile lingering on his lips. "But if you refuse to take them out, then know that I will cut them from your hair and you will never see them again."

The girl nodded and went to sit down at the table, tears falling softly as she undid the braids holding the trinkets in her hair. One by one she placed each semiprecious stone, polished shell, clay bead, and carved charm on the table. When she was finished, there was a colorful line of mementos laid out neatly before her.

Edward walked over to the table and swept the keepsakes into his hand.

"What are you going to do with them?" Isabella asked, rising to follow him. "Please let me keep them at least."

"I will make sure they are somewhere very safe, gypsy," the king said grimly. "Now sit back down at the table and keep that relentless mouth of yours shut."

Isabella watched helplessly as Edward stormed out of the room, his fist full of the only things she had ever called her own.

As the guards pulled the doors shut, the girl sunk to her knees and cried into her palms. Her tattoos tingled furiously as the tears streamed down her cheeks. Never could Isabella have imagined that something so little being taken away from her could hurt so much... She had lost so much more in her life.

"Why me?" She whispered between sobs to the empty room. "Why am I always so hated? What did I do?"

She was still crying when Edward re-entered the room, his hands empty. The king shook his head down at her and grabbed a fistful of her hair, wrenching her to her feet.

"You're crying more than when I beat you," he growled low. "Do you really think it matters who you were? You're a worthless little shit and you always have been."

Isabella cried out in anger and swung a fist at Edward, catching him on his jaw. He reeled with the force of the blow, letting go of her hair as he stumbled backwards.

The girl ran towards the doors and pulled them open, dashing out before the guards had a chance to react.

"After her!" Edward roared at the guards, who had already sprang into action. "Bring her back!"

Isabella could hear the men's booted feet behind her as she sped through the palace. She raced down the marble staircase, trying desperately to remember where the entrance to the stables was.

But the guards knew the palace better than the backs of their hands, soon two had split off from the group to race through the servants' passages and emerge ahead of the girl.

Isabella cried out as she saw the pair emerge from a hidden door in front of her. She immediately turned to race in the other direction, but the remaining guards had caught up with her. She was trapped in the gilded hallway with nowhere left to run.

"Come on!" She screamed at the guards, her eyes alight.

The guards surrounded her hesitantly. Isabella's tear stained face was contorted in rage, her hands open but tense - as if she was just waiting to scratch out the eyes of the first man that tried to grab her. Finally, the two guards closest to her suddenly lunged at her arms.

Isabella let loose an angry cry as she fought to tear herself from the men's grasps. They dragged her, kicking and screaming and pushing and pulling, all the way back to Edward's chambers.

When they got to the open doors, the king was waiting. Isabella glared at the king but did not cease her struggle, in fact, she twisted and writhed all the more fiercely.

"Take her to the dungeon, tie her up," he snarled. "Don't bother to be gentle with the bitch either."

The guards pulled the struggling girl down the hallway and through the hidden door to the dungeons. One of the men hoisted her over his shoulder, pinning her legs under one arm so that she could not kick him as they wound down the narrow stairs. Her fists were no match to his armor but she aimed a couple well-timed elbows to the exposed section of the back of his neck.

When the guards finally strung her up, the guard she had elbowed rounded on her.

"If I thought my master would grant it, I would ask his permission to discipline you myself," he snarled.

Edward's voice suddenly filled the room: "You have my permission, soldier."

The man's lips curled into a grim smile: "Thank you, my king."

Isabella's eyes blazed as the soldier stepped back from her. He winked at her and then swung a punch directly into her stomach.

The girl cried out in pain and her knees gave way beneath her. Edward's eyes filled with a lustful fire as she choked down desperate breaths.

"That will be all," Edward said, dismissing the soldiers with a wave of his hand.

Isabella struggled to regain her breath as the men filed out of the room.

"I think he wanted to do more to you than what I let him," Edward said, circling the girl slowly.

He ran his hand across different parts of Isabella's body as he walked, his fingers lingering on her thigh, her forearm, her neck, her waist, her ass, her breasts...

"I could have let him do more," he whispered darkly. "I could have let him fuck you. I could have let them all fuck you."

Isabella slowly returned to her feet.

"Would you like that?" Edward asked, returning to stand before her. "Would you enjoy them grabbing at you?"

The girl inhaled deeply, her lips trembling.

Edward laughed quietly to himself as he placed his hands on the collar of her dress and slowly began to tear it in two. Isabella's breasts rose and fell sharply as they were exposed.

 **Hi,**

 **That's chapter 5. I thought to end it there since the next chapter would be the most brutal on Isabella and it's something that has to happen since it will be the gateway to how the rest of the story will go. It will also answer some of your question about Edward.**

 **So, I just want to set something straight. I will be finishing this story here in Fanfiction and I'm sorry I don't have a posting schedule since I work 5 days a week in shifting schedules and my day off changes every few weeks I do not have a definite schedule which is a pain but it pays the bills.**

 **Your reviews and responses are all seen and cherished. Keep them coming.**

 **XOXO Kate :D**


	6. Chapter 6

**The King and His Isabella**

 **Chapter 6**

 **Disclaimer: All twilight characters are not mine. Just the plot of the story.**

 _ **~~~ Warning. Rape, torture and well… Here's Edward. ~~~**_

The king knelt down as he pulled her dress apart, brushing his nose and lips against her body as it was revealed. He smiled as the dress fell apart and his face was before Isabella's sex. The girl tried to close her legs but Edward forced them apart and began to kiss the insides of her thighs.

Isabella closed her eyes and tried to keep her lips from trembling. She could feel Edward's breath on her sex, feel his lips brushing against her... Then his tongue was whispering against the folds of her skin.

"Please," she breathed. "Stop."

Edward looked up at her but he did not stop.

"Stop," she begged. "Please don't do this."

The king pulled away and stared up at her. He licked his lips mockingly: "But you're so wet, little gypsy, do you really want me to stop?"

Isabella glared down at Edward.

"Yes," she managed through gritted teeth.

"Because you want me to give you something else?" He asked. Edward toyed at the entrance to her sex with his fingers.

"No, please stop," she said.

Edward ignored her and began to push his finger inside her, marveling once again at the tightness of her pussy. He groaned as he remembered how it felt to fuck her... His balls grew heavier at the thought and his hardness was almost painful.

The king withdrew his finger suddenly and stood up sharply. He licked and bit at Isabella's breasts as he fumbled with his pants.

When his cock was free, he raised his face to meet Isabella's and held her gaze. Her eyes widened as he slowly slid his cock inside her but she did not look away.

Edward moaned and closed his eyes as he drove deep inside the girl.

"Fuck you are tight," he growled. "You can feel every inch of me, can't you?"

The girl gritted her teeth and closed her eyes as he began to thrust in and out of her.

"You've never had a cock this big inside you, have you?" Edward murmured breathily, his fingernails digging sharply into her hips. "Have you? Huh? Have you, you fucking whore?"

"No," Isabella managed finally.

Edward laughed under his breath as he continued to fuck her, his strokes gaining speed as he came closer and closer to climax.

He stopped suddenly and grabbed her thighs, lifting her legs off the ground so that he could penetrate her even deeper. The girl cried out as he shoved the full length of his cock inside her.

"Oh fuck yes," he moaned, beginning to pump in and out of her again. "Tell me how it feels, gypsy. Tell me."

"So deep," she whimpered. "It hurts."

"You're going to be so sore, you won't be able to run away again," he groaned. "You'll be lucky if you can walk tomorrow."

Tears spilled from Isabella's eyes as her lashes fluttered open. She glanced down for a split second and saw Edward's cock sliding in and out of her. She choked back a sob and clamped her eyes shut again.

"You don't like seeing my cock going in and out of you?" Edward asked, fucking her harder.

"Please stop," she gasped. "You're hurting me."

"Don't worry," he sneered, "you'll be used to my size soon enough."

Edward chuckled to himself again and looked down, watching with satisfaction as the length of his dick disappeared inside the girl.

"I'm going to fill your tight little cunt with my cum," he murmured lustily. "Are you ready for it? You ready for my seed to fill you?"

"No, no, please," Isabella cried out, her voice breaking.

"Here it comes," Edward panted. "Oh, fuck, I'm cumming. Take it, take it all you fucking slut."

Edward shuddered as he emptied his cum inside the girl. He was breathing heavily as he pulled out and let go of Isabella's legs. The girl hung from her binds, tears trickling down her face, and cum leaking down her thighs.

The king cleared his throat and pulled his trousers back on.

"Are you going to be obedient if I bring you back to my chambers?" He asked, fastening his trousers.

The girl did not respond.

"I asked you a question," Edward said, lifting her chin.

Isabella's trembling lips curled into an angry snarl.

"I'll take that as a "no"," Edward snapped, letting her chin fall. "Fine, stay down here in the dark with the rats. It's where you belong anyway."

The king turned on his heel and walked back up the stairs, taking the only remaining torch with him and leaving the girl in darkness.

Isabella's tattoos burned her skin as she struggled to hold back her tears.

"Please, give me strength," she whispered into the darkness.

 **~~~~0o0o0o0o~~~~**

Jasper stole through the darkened hallways of the palace in silence. No matter how hard Edward tried to keep his movements secret, the servants always seemed to know where he was and what he had been doing. Jasper had only needed to spend ten minutes in the kitchens to find out that the king had disappeared into the dungeons with the girl again but that she had not come out.

He walked quietly down the hallway, scanning the shadows in case Edward had left any of his guards to watch the dungeon door. He had not.

The vizier picked the lock with ease - the childhood pranks he and Edward had pulled off had left him with some useful skills - and gently closed the door behind him.

The darkness was complete. Not a single ray of light penetrated into these dark recesses of the palace. Jasper repressed a shudder and rummaged in his bag for the flint he would need to light one of the torches. Within moments the oil-soaked cloth caught a spark, giving Jasper the light he needed to make his way safely down the narrow staircase.

"Isabella?" The vizier whispered as he finally reached the bottom of the stairs.

"Jasper?" The girl replied hopefully. She had been strung up just as before: Her wrists wrenched high above her head, her toes barely touching the floor. The ripped remains of her dress were strewn on the ground around her.

"Yes, it's me," he replied, placing the torch in one of the many metal holders that dotted the rough clay walls.

"You shouldn't be here," she whispered. "If Edward finds out..."

"He won't," Jasper said, placing his bag on the ground. He walked over to the girl and cradled her face gently, kissing her softly on her forehead before reaching up to untie her wrists.

The exhausted girl collapsed to the floor as soon as Jasper loosed her wrists.

"Isabella!" Jasper cried, sinking to his knees in front of her. "I'm sorry! Are you alright?"

"Yes, yes, I'm fine," she said, her tone apologetic. "I'm just tired."

"Don't be sorry," he whispered, pulling off his coat and wrapping it around her shoulders. "I'm the one who should be sorry."

The girl clutched the coat around herself and shook her head: "I'm fine, I really am."

Jasper looked at the girl with heartbreak in his eyes. He was the one who had put her in this situation, but she was the one lying to protect him.

The pair knelt in silence for a moment.

"I brought you some food," Jasper said finally. "And water."

"Thank you," Isabella whispered.

Jasper rooted through his bag, pulling out a leather flask of water and some meat and bread wrapped in cloth.

He watched as the girl ate, guilt churning in his gut. The girl had no reason to be atoning for his sins and yet, here she was, naked in a dungeon, feeding off smuggled scraps.

"Isabella," he said suddenly, breaking the silence, "where are you from?"

"I don't know," she said between mouthfuls. "I can't remember anything before a few years ago."

"Do you know how old you are?"

The girl shook her head as she swallowed the last of the bread: "But I think I'm older than I look."

Jasper held out the flask to her. The girl gulped it down within a few moments.

"Why can't you remember?"

Isabella closed the flask and handed it back to Jasper before answering.

"I had an, um - " she paused for a moment, fidgeting restlessly with the cloth as she tried to find her words.

"Accident," she said finally. "When I came to, I couldn't remember anything and I couldn't speak. From things I heard my master say, I knew I had not always been a slave but all my memories start from when I was. He sold me, my new masters abandoned me in the desert and that's where a Daarkan lady found me. She took me in and brought me back to health but I never regained my memories."

"Where were you headed when your ship foundered?" Jasper asked.

"I had not yet decided," she admitted. "But the Daarkan lady was something of a mystic. She told me that I had to leave if I was to find out who I was. She said I needn't worry about planning where to go, that Fate would lead me. But she said I would endure more suffering before I found my way home."

"And you went anyway?" He asked incredulously.

"Wouldn't you?" She replied.

"Who was your master?" Jasper asked, ignoring her question.

"The only thing you need to know about him is that he's dead," she said icily. "I do not speak his name."

"But I might be able to help you find out where you're from," Jasper said. "Tell me his name."

"He took many slaves," she said. "You will not be able to figure out which one of his many conquests my captivity resulted from."

"But you speak our language," Jasper pressed, "surely that will narrow it down."

"I speak six languages," Isabella said wearily. "I do not know which one is my native tongue."

"Six?" Jasper repeated.

"At least," the girl shrugged. "There might be more. Just last year someone spoke Greek to me and, to both our surprise, I responded."

Jasper shook his head in wonder: "You are a mystery, Isabella."

The girl sighed and glanced sadly around the room: "You should tie me back up and leave."

"No," Jasper said. "At least get some sleep first."

Isabella nodded reluctantly and curled up against the wall beside Jasper. He pulled her into his chest and held her close, listening as her breathing slowed in sleep.

The vizier tried to keep his own eyes open but, after a while, he was deep in sleep as well.

 **~~~~0o0o0o0o~~~~**

"Well, well, well, isn't this a surprise..."

Jasper's eyes shot open at the sound of Edward's dark voice. He moved slightly, causing Isabella to moan out loud in her sleep.

Edward's upper lip curled as Jasper glared up at him defiantly.

"What are you doing with my whore?" Edward asked.

Isabella's eyes fluttered open and she started in Jasper's arms when her eyes lit on Edward.

"Oh good, she knows her name," the king taunted.

Edward reached down and grabbed Isabella's upper arm, pulling her violently to her feet.

"Edward, this has gone too far," Jasper said, leaping to his feet.

"I told you that she was none of your concern," Edward snapped. "I fucking told you to stay away from her."

"You need help, Edward," Jasper seethed. "You are sick."

"Guards!" Edward roared.

Six armed men came running down the stairs, their weapons drawn.

"Arrest this man for treason," Edward ordered. "I will see him hanged before sunset."

"No!" Isabella cried, trying to pull away from the king and reach Jasper. "Please, Edward, don't!"

Suddenly there were two guards flanking Jasper. They gripped his arms roughly and refused to let him struggle away.

"No, please! Please!" The girl screamed. Her voice was thick with sadness and anger.

"Keep it up and I will make sure you are there to watch him die," Edward snarled, his fingers digging into Isabella's arm.

"He won't do it, Isabella," Jasper said, his glare fixed on Edward.

"Yes I will," Edward said simply. "She knows I will."

"Please, Edward, kill me instead," Isabella begged.

"No," the king snapped. "You have already saved his life once."

"But he's your friend, your advisor," she cried. "And you would value his life over that of a whore?"

Edward snatched a sword from one of the guard's fingers and held it against Isabella's throat.

"Say it again," he commanded breathlessly. "Tell me what you are."

"I'm a whore," she said measuredly. Her eyes held his, unflinching.

"What kind of whore?"

"A worthless whore."

"Whose worthless whore are you?"

"Yours," Isabella said through gritted teeth.

Edward lowered the sword and nodded at the guards flanking Jasper. They did not move from the vizier's sides but they let his arms go.

"Fine. Jasper will not die today," he said. "But you will be punished in his stead. And Jasper will choose what form that punishment will take."

Jasper's eyes flashed angrily as they lit upon the king.

"Either she will stand out in the stocks for a week, naked, for the entire kingdom to see, or she will service each and every one of my guards, or she will get fifty lashes," Edward said. "Your choice, Jasper."

"I will not choose," Jasper said. "She has done nothing wrong."

"You will choose or she will endure all three!" Edward roared.

Jasper caught Isabella's azure eyes and she gazed at him with such understanding and heartfelt emotion that he could not bear to see her humiliated or degraded.

"The whip," he said, his proud shoulders slumping in defeat.

"I was hoping to see her covered in my soldiers' cum but I suppose she could use with a good lashing," Edward smiled darkly. "And you will get to strike the first blow, Jasper."

"No," Jasper said heatedly. "That I will not do."

"If you don't, she will get ten more lashes," Edward said, his eyes sparking.

Jasper cursed as the guards strung Isabella up by her wrists.

"Don't do this," the vizier begged. "Please don't do this."

"Shut up, Jasper," Edward growled. "If you had stayed away from the girl we wouldn't be here."

Jasper hung his head and walked slowly to stand in front of Isabella. He reached out to gently cradle her face in his hands.

"He's right," he whispered, pressing his forehead against hers. "This is all my fault."

"No," Isabella murmured. "Don't say that."

"I can't do it," he said. "I can't hurt you."

"Yes you can, and you must," she breathed through quivering lips. "Please just do it."

Edward pulled Jasper away from the girl and handed him the barbed whip. Then Edward went to stand in front of Isabella, gripping her chin tightly between his fingers. Her eyes burned with fierce anger but he smirked at her trembling lips.

"Didn't I tell you you'd come to know fear?" He asked mockingly. "Now, Jasper."

The vizier pulled the whip back and let it fly against the girl's skin. She screamed and clamped her eyes shut.

Edward smiled ruefully at the girl's pained expression: "Again. Harder."

He made Jasper deliver the first ten lashes before taking over. Jasper was immediately before the girl, gently stroking her face and whispering apologies and sweet words of encouragement in her ear as Edward delivered blow after menacing blow. The barbs tore through her skin and blood dripped down her ass and thighs. By the time Edward delivered the last blow, Isabella was out of tears and out of screams. She hung in the restraints lifelessly, her eyes barely open and her lips bleeding from where she had bitten them raw.

Edward threw the whip down and pushed Jasper away. He slapped Isabella's cheek and her eyes fluttered open slowly.

"Can you hear me?"

The girl nodded slightly.

"You are no longer allowed to speak with Jasper, look at him, or touch him," he said. "Do you under-stand?"

The girl nodded and then let her head fall.

"And you," Edward said, turning on his heel to face Jasper, "you will not go near her again."

Jasper's eyes blazed: "She needs to be seen by a doctor."

"She is not your concern," Edward snapped, his chest inches from Jasper's. "How many times do I have to tell you?"

"She'll die if she doesn't," Jasper said staunchly.

"So she dies," Edward shrugged, turning away from the vizier. "She said she would for you."

"I am going to summon Carlisle," Jasper said. "Allow him to treat her."

"Fine," Edward said, his upper lip curling. "Call him. But get out."

"Fine," Jasper snarled. He cast one last look at the girl and then stalked up the stairs.

A few minutes later, Carlisle appeared, the old man's face was grim. Edward nodded towards the girl and then left. The guards would allow no one else into the dungeon.

Carlisle gently undid the straps holding Isabella aloft. He gripped her tightly to keep her from falling and gently laid her on the ground.

"I'm sorry, my dear," Carlisle said. "So sorry."

Isabella just moaned.

"Please, child, if you can, lie on your stomach."

The girl whimpered as she rolled onto her stomach. Dr. Carlisle cleaned her wounds and bandaged them as best he could. He gently pulled Isabella into his arms so that he could wind the bandages around her torso. The girl's thin frame shook as he worked and even when he lay her back on the floor, her limbs still quivered.

"Isabella," he said, spreading his cloak on the ground for her to lie on, "roll onto my cloak. You shouldn't have to lie in the dirt."

"He'll just take it away," she said.

"I will tell him not to."

"If he listened to anyone but the voices in his head then we wouldn't be in this situation," she said, a hint of bitterness tainting her melodic voice.

The doctor sighed but picked his cloak back up off the floor. He rummaged around in his medicine chest for something to ease the girl's pain.

"Tell him it's not his fault," the girl whispered.

Carlisle returned to her side, medicine in hand.

"Who, dear?" The doctor asked as he helped her sit up to take a pain killer.

"Jasper," she murmured hoarsely. "Remind him that I chose this path. I chose this."

"My child," Dr. Carlisle said softly, "the only person who deserves this treatment is the one doling it out to you."

"Edward has suffered. Anger and sorrow can twist a man's soul."

"Do not pity him," the doctor said firmly. "He stopped being worthy of our pity a long time ago."

"Will you tell Jasper what I said?"

"I will," Carlisle said, offering the girl a kind smile.

Isabella smiled weakly back and then closed her eyes. Carlisle waited until she was asleep before draping his cloak over her body.

He collected his things as quietly as he could and ascended the stairs. When he knocked on the door, the guards pulled it open to reveal Edward pacing the hall restlessly.

He stopped when he heard the door shut and turned to the doctor.

"Well?" He snapped.

"Well what?" Carlisle asked.

"Will she live?"

"No," the doctor said flatly.

The color drained slightly from Edward's face but his expression remained neutral.

"Not if you continue to treat her like this," Carlisle continued, pretending not to have noticed the fear that crept suddenly into his king's eyes or the way his skin had blanched at the thought of Isabella being gone.

"Then she is alive?"

"For now," Carlisle said grimly. "But it is clear that you mean to kill her. And one day, perhaps very soon, you will get your wish at last."

Edward sneered at the doctor but did not dismiss him.

"You will treat her, Carlisle," Edward ordered. "How long do you need?"

"You cannot be serious!" The doctor exclaimed incredulously. "You want me to heal her just so you can do it all over again, don't you?"

"How long do you need?" Edward repeated. "And remember, doctor, that you have a duty to her under your oaths and a duty to me as your king."

Carlisle closed his eyes and shook his head. He had known Edward from when he was just a child. How he had become the creature that stood before him now, bloodlust flickering in his eyes, was hard to comprehend.

"I never thought I would see you like this, Edward," he murmured. "You were such a happy boy."

Edward's eyes flamed: "You have two days."

"Two days?" He cried. "She cannot be healed in two days!"

"How long do you need?" Edward asked for the third time, annunciating each word carefully, dangerously.

 **~~~~0o0o0o0o~~~~**

 **Hi everyone!**

 **So, there is it chapter 6. I really appreciate all the patience, reviews, follows and support everyone gave. It fuels me to know that so many have read my story and liked it.**

 **As mentioned before, I am sorry I am not able to reply to every review as my phone somehow does not allow me to reply when I get the email that someone reviewed on my story. Please note though that every review is seen and cherished. I feel like a giddy girl every time my phone "dings" for a new email that someone reviewed, followed and favorite this story. It fuels me and I urge more to review.**

 **** By the way, I know the subject matter is highly sensitive and for some, it might be a trigger for bad memories and I am sorry. When I was writing the story in the beginning I didn't write it as graphic as it is now. It's just that I felt that it is a vital and important part of the story. I wanted my readers to feel the hate for Edward but not pity for Isabella. I wanted my readers to see Isabella's strength as an inspiration rather than pity for the slave that had been beaten and raped. I wanted her to be admired for the attitude she had showed for learning how to cope in an impossible situation.**

 **Anyway. I think that is a bit too much for an end note.**

 **Until next time friends..**

 **XOXO Kate :D**


	7. Chapter 7

**The King and His Isabella**

 **Chapter 7**

 **Disclaimer: All twilight characters are not mine. Just the plot of the story.**

"Two weeks at the least."

"You may have five days," Edward said sharply. "She is not to leave the medical quarters or have contact with anyone other than yourself and your nurses. If Jasper attempts to come near her, you will report him to me."

Carlisle glowered but nodded.

The king instructed one of his guards to stay and carry the girl to the infirmary before turning on his heel, his cloak billowing out behind him as he stalked off through the palace.

 **~~~~0o0o0o~~~~**

Isabella's eyes fluttered open and, for a moment, she wondered whether she was in heaven. The sunlight was so bright, the room she was in so white, and every part of her body seemed bathed in a healing warmth... And then her wandering eyes found Carlisle's face.

The doctor smiled warmly down at her: "Good morning, Isabella."

The girl murmured in response.

"Here, have some water," Carlisle said, gently lifting her head so that she could drink from the cup he pressed to her lips.

Isabella gulped down the water greedily, draining the glass in seconds.

"Thank you," she whispered hoarsely.

"Shhh, rest your voice," Carlisle admonished gently.

Isabella sighed deeply and nodded, thanking Carlisle with a wordless smile after he refilled the glass with more water and brought it for her.

"Isabella?" the doctor asked hesitantly after she finished drinking. "I have some questions for you."

"All right," the girl breathed. Even though her throat felt raw from screaming, Isabella was determined to answer all the doctor's questions.

"Don't speak, just nod or shake your head," he said with a sympathetic smile. "I just want to learn more about you."

Isabella nodded, thankful that she would not have to strain her voice any further.

"You told me that your tattoos were part of a Daarken ritual," Carlisle said.

The girl nodded, her gaze somber.

"I have only ever read about this ritual," the doctor said. "And, like most others in my profession, I only ever thought it to be a myth."

Isabella shook her head vigorously.

"I know, I know," Carlisle said earnestly. "I believe you, my dear."

Reassured, the girl sighed.

"But I can't even imagine what you must have endured for you to require that level of healing."

Isabella looked away, her bright eyes overcome with a shadow that seemed to come from inside.

"Do you know who hurt you?" Carlisle asked gently.

The girl nodded but did not turn her face back towards the old man.

"Do you know how you came to be in his power?"

Isabella shook her head.

"Do you know who you are?"

Another shake of her tousled, brunette head.

"Do you want to know?"

Isabella's sapphire eyes met his suddenly. The question in them was clear: Do you know?

"I do not know who you are," Carlisle said apologetically, his heart heavy as Isabella hung her head in disappointment.

"But," he continued, "I might be able to help you find out."

The girl looked up at him again, her deep blue eyes filled with hope.

"I have friends and contacts across the globe," he said. "If you let me transcribe your tattoos and sketch your likeness, perhaps someone in my circle will know who you are."

Grateful tears filled Isabella's eyes and she nodded, reaching out a hand for Carlisle to hold. She squeezed his hand and then lay back in bed, lifting her arms above the sheets so that the doctor could see her tattoos while she slept. Then the exhausted girl closed her azure eyes and drifted back into slumber.

 **~~~~0o0o0o~~~~**

Carlisle shot out of his seat at the booted footsteps he heard approaching his infirmary. The old man glowered at the door as it was opened wide for the King of kings.

"What are you doing here?" He growled at Edward. "You promised my five days to heal her. She has barely had a day's rest."

"And five days you shall have," the king snarled in response, his temper rising to meet Carlisle's.

The doctor exhaled sharply as he sat back down at his desk: "What do you want then, Your Highness?"

Edward's nostrils flared at the blatant mockery in the Carlisle's tone but he managed to keep his rage in check.

"I am here for a story," he said.

"Her voice is hoarse from screaming, yet you would have her entertain you with stories?" Carlisle scowled.

"I can find another use for her if you'd prefer," Edward sneered.

"If you so much as lay a finger on her - "

"Carlisle!" Edward interrupted. "If you wish to keep your life, then I suggest you not finish that sentence."

The doctor snapped his mouth shut angrily.

"Lead me to the girl," he commanded.

Carlisle glared at the king as he motioned down the corridor: "She is in the last room on the left."

Edward gestured for his guards to remain with Carlisle and then stalked down the white-washed hallway. He threw open the curtain to Isabella's room and found himself captured immediately in the girl's sapphire stare.

"Hello gypsy," he murmured.

"Edward," she muttered.

"I am here for the rest of Qadir's story," he said, sitting down at the edge of her cot.

"So I heard," she said.

Carlisle had not been exaggerating when he said the girl's voice was strained from screaming. It almost hurt Edward to hear the way her words grated against the back of her throat... Almost.

Edward looked at the girl expectantly, waiting for her to pick up where she had left off.

"When you stopped, Mo was in the desert," he offered. "Qadir laughed because his camel, Noor, bit him."

"I know," she said simply.

Edward's brow furrowed when she said nothing.

"Well?" He asked agitatedly. "What happened next?"

"I can barely speak," the girl murmured. "I cannot tell you a story with my voice like this."

"I order you to," Edward said dangerously.

"Order me all you want," she whispered. "That will not change what I am physically capable of."

"I am being patient with you, gypsy," the king said. "I am giving you five days to recover."

"And I am grateful," she said quietly.

"Then you will finish the fucking story," he growled. "Now!"

"Come back tomorrow," Isabella said. "Tomorrow my voice will be rested."

"Tomorrow?" The King asked incredulously.

"Tomorrow," she nodded. "And I promise, you will get your story."

Edward was in a foul temper. The girl had given him an order and, even worse, he had obeyed.

"I walked out of that room like a chastised pet dog," he muttered to himself. "My tail between my fucking legs."

He paced the room agitatedly, too caught up in his own anger to even think about food or drink.

"Tomorrow," he snarled. "'Come back tomorrow', she said."

He stopped before the open window and stared out at the starry sky, massaging his forehead with one hand. Tomorrow seemed a very long way away.

Edward had not had a restful night since Irina woke him with a knife at his throat. The darkness seemed to crowd him, sending his wickedest instincts into a frenzy. He could feel those dark desires struggling against their chains like wild animals, pawing at the ground and howling at the moon, thirsting for freedom.

He scowled and turned his back to the night sky. He needed liquor and a woman. Possibly more than one... he felt a fire growing in the pit of his stomach as he thought about how he had taken Isabella the first time. His cock began to harden, straining against his trousers as he remembered how her whole body had quivered when he came inside her.

Edward wanted the gypsy's head impaled on his dick right then and there. He wanted the slut to gag on the length of his member and choke on his cum.

But, as much as he wanted the girl, he needed a willing whore tonight. He needed a seasoned slut to ride him. Edward fastened his cloak around his neck and pulled the hood over his head, obscuring his face in shadow. There was only one place to find the kind of woman he needed - an underground brothel on the outskirts of the city. It was kept secret to all but the most discreet of clientele. And, tonight, for the first time in many months, he would be one of them.

It was easy for Edward to sneak out of the palace: He was still as strong and agile as he had been as a younger man, and he knew the buildings and their grounds like the back of his hand. He climbed down the thick, creeping vines that grew outside the queen's bedroom window and disappeared into the unguarded gardens. The tree he and Jasper climbed as children was still the only one tall enough to stretch over the palace walls and he pulled himself up into its branches with a muffled grunt before following them over the rampart. He dropped to his feet outside the wall and then, after a hasty glance to be sure he was alone, took off into the night.

Edward slipped through the narrow alleyways of Persepolis like a shadow. The brothel was hidden beneath a decrepit house on the outskirts of the city. Perhaps some wild spirit took pleasure in the sinful den because, no matter how many times the desert threatened to consume it, the sand always seemed to keep at bay. If Edward were to be recognized out here, so close to the savage wilderness he had sent so many women to die in, the kingdom would probably never find all the pieces of his body. But the threat of death made the king's visits all the more exciting. Each time something moved in the shadows, Edward's stomach leapt and the rush of adrenaline set his heart pounding. The only thing he liked better than the dangerous journey was the reward that awaited him at its end.

By the time Edward reached the brothel his cock was struggling against the confines of his trousers once more. He walked into the abandoned house and knelt down a few steps inside, rapping sharply on the floor. A hidden trap door slid open - just wide enough for him to slip a bag of coins through - and then slammed shut again. A few moments passed while the guard counted the money and then the trapdoor slid open, this time wide enough for Edward to enter.

The guard nodded at the king as he descended the first few steps of the crooked wooden staircase before shutting the trapdoor and bolting it behind them. Edward waited in the darkness as the guard lit a lantern. Suddenly the wick caught and the passageway was illuminated. The guard edged past Edward and led him down the steep stairs. Finally the silent pair arrived at a thick wooden door. It opened slowly at a single knock from the guard. A pair of eunuchs nodded respectfully to Edward and then led him inside the luxuriant underground brothel.

Edward inhaled deeply as he was led through the carpeted corridor, taking in the scents of perfume, opium and incense that wafted through the air. From behind gauzy curtains, naked women sent coy smiles his way, flitting from their beds to gaze lustfully after him. The eunuchs stopped before a room guarded only by a heavy curtain. They held it open for Edward and then took their places outside the doorway.

The room was hazy with the musky smoke of burning incense and soft pillows were strewn across the carpeted floor. Edward pulled off his clothes, leaving them on the ground where they fell. He no longer had his hood to conceal his identity, but a mask had been laid out on the bed for him to cover his face. The mask was in the shape of a snarling wolf, its red tongue lolling out from between fanged teeth.

"Fitting," he muttered to himself before slipping the mask over his face.

The eye-holes offered him a more narrow view of the room. He walked away from the bed and settled down in the padded embrace of a large, low chair. Then he waited for the show to begin.

He did not have to wait long. Two girls suddenly peeked in from the doorway. They giggled at each other and entered slowly, giving Edward the chance to appraise them.

They were both very beautiful women his eyes raked over their bodies. One was darker than the other, her raven hair hung straight and long, and her voluptuous breasts were ornamented with mahogany nipples that begged to be bitten. The other's hair rippled down to her shoulders in brown waves, her breasts were smaller than the friend's and her nipples were small, pink rosebuds. The girls walked to stand in front of Edward and then began to touch each other, simpering at him as they rubbed their breasts together.

The king groaned slightly as girl with the smaller breasts leaned down and took one of her friend's nipples into her mouth - pulling it between her teeth until the second prostitute moaned in delight. Edward licked his lips as the girl moved her mouth to the other nipple, suckling and biting at it mercilessly.

The girl with the straight hair then pulled the other girl's face towards hers, engulfing that torturous mouth in a passionate kiss. As their tongues danced, the prostitutes' hands resumed their explorations, running lightly over each other's breasts and asses.

Finally the girls broke their kiss, they glanced at Edward's dripping member and then back to each other. They each giggled as they got down on their hands and knees and began crawling towards the king. Edward moaned as he felt their lips brushing against his feet and steeled himself from taking his cock in his hands. He gripped the arms of the chair harshly as the girls licked and nibbled and kissed their way up his calves.

He spread his legs wider as the girls reached his thighs, shifting himself lower so that his groin was off the chair. The prostitutes licked his inner thighs, making their way slowly towards his heavy balls and waiting member. One of the girls turned around, positioning her face under his balls. He hissed as she ran her tongue around his ballsack, licking at each of his testicles gently before taking them both into her mouth.

"Yeah, bitch," he whispered darkly, "lick my balls."

The girl responded enthusiastically, even running her tongue behind his balls, teasing his perineum with her mouth.

The other prostitute straddled her friend, rubbing her pussy against the other girl's stomach as she positioned herself to suck the king's dick. Edward closed his eyes and moaned as she began to lick his cock from base to crown, swirling her tongue around its leaking head and lapping up his precum. Then she took the whole thing in her mouth, swallowing every inch of his cock in eager gulps. Her nose brushed against his pelvis as she held his cock in her mouth, her muscles clenching around his dick as it hit the back of her throat.

The king felt pressure mounting in the pit of his stomach but he refused to cum so quickly. He reached out and pulled the girl sucking his cock to her feet by a fistful of her hair.

"Ride my cock, whore," he muttered breathlessly.

The girl smiled at him lustily and straightened her knees. As the other girl continued to lick and suck on Edward's balls, she lowered herself onto his dick. She cried out loudly as the king's thick cock filled her and began rocking her hips back and forth. The king moaned as his length moved inside her. He knew her cries of ecstasy were not real, but they did not detract from the feeling of her pussy as his cock slipped inside her.

He grabbed her hips and began to fuck her, moving his hips in time with hers so that each stroke seemed to go deeper and deeper inside her slim frame. The girl licking at his balls dropped her greedy mouth even lower, making Edward shudder in pleasure as her tongue darted around his asshole.

"Oh yes, that's it," he groaned, "lick my shithole, you filthy slut."

Sweat glistened on Edward's brow, dripping down behind the mask as he rammed into the girl on top of his dick even harder.

"Yes! Yes!" She cried. "Fuck me like the dirty whore I am! Ugh, yes!"

The king growled, loving the prostitute's self-deprecating words at the same time that he knew she was just saying what he wanted to hear.

He stopped suddenly: "Get off," he said.

The girl lifted herself off his member, moaning as it slid out from inside her.

"Get on your knees," he said.

Edward stood up and pulled the other girl to her knees so that the two prostitutes were facing each other.

"Kiss each other," he said, stroking his cock as they began to make out. "Can you taste my ass on her mouth, huh?"

The girls tongued each other fiercely, moaning as they licked each other's lips.

Edward pressed his dick against their mouths and then slipped it between them so that each one was kissing the side of his cock. He held their heads together as his cock thrust between their mouths. The girls fondled each other's breasts as he used their mouths and Edward came closer and closer to coming each time one of them plucked at the other's hardened nipples.

"I'm going to cum," he moaned suddenly. He pulled the girls apart and they opened their mouths for him. He grabbed his cock and began stroking it furiously, moving it from one girl's mouth to the other until he finally released his load across both of their faces. Jets of thick, white cum streaked the girl's smiling faces. He groaned and wiped the tip of his cock across one of the girl's upper lips and then sank down into the chair again, breathing heavily.

The girl with the straight hair flashed a coy smile at him and then began to lick the cum off the other prostitute's face, moaning each time she swallowed. When her friend's face was clean, the other girl returned the favor, lapping up the streaks of cum that latticed her cheeks. But, instead of swallowing, the girl kissed the other prostitute with her mouth full cum, letting the other girl share the rich liquid. Edward's breathing slowly returned to normal as the two whores swapped his cum between their mouths. When they had finally swallowed it all, he dismissed them with a wave of his hand. The girls laughed coyly and turned around, crawling away and out the door on their hands and knees, offering Edward a last look at their perfect asses.

The king sighed as the curtain swung closed behind the prostitutes. He took off the mask and breathed in deeply. He was spent but, somehow, not satisfied. He got dressed slowly, trying to figure out what was missing. He thought back to the prostitutes' performance but, as he recalled the girl moaning as she bounced on his cock, the face that came to mind was not hers but Isabella's.

Edward snarled angrily: Why is that bitch's face invading my every waking moment? He thought to himself.

Why is it her face I see when I make another woman cry out in pleasure?

The king stormed out of the room in a foul temper. The eunuchs trailed behind him silently, making sure he was escorted out of the brothel's main keep. The door shut behind him and Edward stalked through the darkness until he came to the stairwell, almost tripping over the first step. He breathed in sharply to keep from cursing at the pain in his shin and cautiously felt his way up the stairs. The guard opened the trapdoor for him as he approached and moonlight flooded the dark passage, giving Edward the light he needed to ascend the rest of the way safely. Edward climbed out of the trapdoor into the decrepit house, sighing almost sadly as he heard the door slide shut again behind him.

This was the part of the journey he liked least: The long, lonely walk home.

 **~~~~0o0o0o~~~~**

Isabella seemed to be sleeping peacefully for the first time since she fell into Edward's hands. Her slim frame was held softly in the moon's pale embrace and her chest rose and fell gently as she breathed. But the girl's serene countenance was as much of a mask as the one Edward was placing on his face at the exact same moment, for it revealed nothing of the restless dreams haunting her.

It is dark where she is. Dark and dank.

Fetid water pools around her, sloshing gently with the rhythmic pitch and yaw of the vessel. Is it dark because there is no light down here in the belly of the beast? Surely some mischievous ray of light could steal its way through the rotting oakum and soaking planks to light up even an inch of the pitchy brig... She cannot see her own hands, even as she holds them inches from her face.

Thunder cracks. The ship dances. She can hear its old wooden bones creaking, feel the timbers shivering. But where is the lightning?

A thousand years pass in the darkness. Or maybe just a day. Rough hands haul her up, up through the cavernous bowels of the creature. Charybdis. That is her name. A snarling siren is lashed to the bow, her open mouth spitting sea-spray each time the vessel heaves to. Red pennants at the mastheads warn that defiance will end in blood. No prisoners taken, no prisoners conceded.

She is above deck. The salty, sultry breeze kisses her cheeks and sends the sails a-shaking. But where is the sun?

His face looms above her and she can see nothing else.

The roiling sea seems to hiss his name. Is it friends with this wicked ship, or enemies? Perhaps the ocean is afraid of what the Devil might do if she swallows him. Even mighty Death seems to tremble to take this man.

He is just a man, is he not? A man whose skin has been turned to leather under the merciless glare of the sun. A man whose body has been ripped to pieces again and again in battle and rest stitched each time by his own hand. A man whose eyes are as dark and pitiless as those of a shark, void of emotion, save for when they glow lustily in the thick of the fray. He feels neither cold nor heat, neither sadness nor happiness, neither pleasure nor pain. He takes no real joy in the notoriety his savagery has earned him. He finds no comfort in the riches with which he has furnished his cabin. He is consumed by bloodlust and wanderlust and he spends every waking hour trying to quench his thirst for death and adventure.

He addresses her. Not by name. If he knows it, he has never called her by it.

Those calloused hands wrench her to her feet, dragging her towards his cabin.

More darkness. But only one pair of hands.

His mouth is against her throat. His teeth graze against her neck with each heady breath he takes. All she can smell is him. He stinks of rum and salt and cannon smoke. She clamps her eyes shut as he shudders.

The water is almost black. She stares out at the endless expanse of sea and sky, wondering where in the grey they meet.

There is laughter at her back. That pair of bloodstained hands suddenly shoots out and pushes her over the edge. She tries to scream but no sound comes out of her mouth. The frigid water rises to meet her, swallowing her whole.

The sea stings her eyes and her nose as it drags her mercilessly down into its cold embrace.

And then her eyes open and the sun is blinding. The salt-crusted planks of the deck burn beneath her outstretched limbs.

There is a victory celebration on the main deck tonight. The musicians are pounding on their drums. The crew dances in the moonlight, their shadows leaping like fiends across the ship. They have not even bothered to sweep away the sand that kept their feet from slipping on the deck when it was slick with blood. Someone grabs her from the shadows, forcing her into the middle of the drunken frenzy with the gleaming blade of his cutlass. A hand wraps around her waist as someone pulls her into a dance. The ship whirls around her and the faces of the men blur together. And then, in a sudden moment of clarity, she sees his face. His eyes are narrowed, his upper lip curling in a contemptuous snarl.

He slams the door to his cabin open and she shivers in the corner. His boots leave a trail of bloody footprints across the floor. He sweeps his arms across his desk, sending its contents crashing to the floor. Nautical charts flutter slowly to the ground as he turns around. He leans against the empty desk, panting. He sees her. The anger in his eyes flames brighter.

"The fuck are you looking at?" He growls.

She looks down. He walks towards her slowly, the heels of his boots dragging against the floor.

"I haven't got my money's worth out of you yet, whore," he says. She does not need to look up to know that he is smirking. She can hear it in his voice.

His fingers graze her chin, lifting her face to meet his. The gleam in his dark eyes sets her stomach churning.

"You cost me my greatest victory," he hisses. "I had Charles on his knees. And then you went and fucked it all up."

None of what he says makes sense to her. Why can't she remember who she was or what she had done?

"What did you tell him in that letter?" He snarls, his ragged fingernails digging into her face.

She shakes her head as best she can. She cannot remember.

"You're such a stupid cunt," he growls. "Your head so full with grand ideas of virtue and honor and patriotic self-sacrifice..."

He leers down at her. She suddenly realizes that she is naked. Bruises cover her arms, her legs are sticky with sweat and semen. His other hand whispers across her breasts and her nipples harden instinctively.

"Where is your honor now? Huh? Where's your virtue, you cock-hungry whore?" He taunts. "Do you think Charles would want you back now? Now that you've had every whole stuffed full with sailor's cum?"

Bitter tears sting her eyes.

"I can just imagine it," he smiles, painting her a vivid picture with his words. "The way he'll recoil from you in disgust when he sees the cum-stained slut you've become."

He holds her down with a heavy hand on her shoulder as he thrusts a finger inside her sex, laughing as she struggles to escape his vicious grip.

"Until I get what you owe me, you're mine, you filthy whore," he says, slowly fucking her with his fingers.

He leans in towards her, burying his face in her neck: "All. Mine."

 **~~~~0o0o0o~~~~**

 **HI Friends!**

 **I thought it was good to end the chapter there. A little nightmare and a bit of a look at Isabella's past.**

 **Again guys, I want to thank everyone who had come this far with me. The people who favorite, followed and reviewed this story. I know the story has a theme that is not at all easy for everyone and I know people are hating on Edward (as everyone should) however there's a reason for every chapter and word and I hope by the time this story ends everyone will understand.**

 **I got a lot of PM's and reviews asking me to say if this is a Jasper/ Isabella pairing or Edward/Isabella pairing and I really want to say but it will ruin the suspense of the story and I hope you guys understand. The only thing I can say is that this is not an easy journey and in the end I hope everyone will agree with the pairing as everything that happens in the story has a purpose. Down to the last scene. :D**

 **Again, reviews are all seen and cherished. I'm sorry if I haven't replied to all but don't worry as I am creating a Facebook page so we can all hang and chat. It will be ready by next week.**

 **Anyway, I'll cut the note here and I'll see you all next time.**

 **XOXO Kate :D**


	8. Chapter 8

**The King and His Isabella**

 **Chapter 8**

 **Disclaimer: All twilight characters are not mine. Just the plot of the story.**

Isabella shot up in bed, her heart racing in terror at the nightmare she had awoken from. She had dreamt about him. She glanced frantically about the room and then gasped in fear as her eyes adjusted to the darkness. She clamped her hands over her mouth to stifle a scream: There, slumped in the corner of the tiny room, was Edward.

She breathed in and out deeply as she stared at the sleeping king, trying to bring her heartbeat back to normal. Edward's arms rested on his knees, his head tilted back against the wall. He was bare-chested, wearing nothing put a simple pair of linen trousers.

Isabella climbed out of her bed slowly, her wounds still aching. She pulled the top blanket off the bed and knelt down beside Edward to drape the sheet over his sleeping form.

The king's eyes fluttered open as she began to lay the blanket over him.

"Isabella," he whispered, his voice low and dark.

The girl started at the sound of his voice and dropped the blanket, stepping away from him quickly.

"Sit with me," he said, pulling the blanket off and gesturing to the floor between his legs.

The girl stood, frozen in the moonlight.

"Do it," he said, his tone taking on a hardened edge.

Isabella walked back to him and dropped to the floor, her back to him. He looped a gentle hand around her waist and pulled her towards him. He pulled the blanket over both their bodies, wrapping his arms around her and resting his head against hers.

Isabella could feel Edward's chest rising and falling slowly behind her, each breath warming her neck. She almost dared not breathe lest she woke him again. She was torn between the warmth of his sleeping embrace and the savagery of his waking actions. It was like being cuddled by a tiger.

Edward's muscles twitched in his sleep, each involuntary movement setting Isabella's heart racing. Slowly, however, her exhaustion overcame her and she fell into an uneasy sleep.

 **~~~~0o0o0o~~~~**

Edward's eyes blinked open and he winced at the brilliant sunlight that filled the room. He glanced down at the gypsy: Her head rested against his chest, her hair tumbling down his abdomen.

"Gypsy," he murmured. "Wake up."

The girl stirred at the sound of his voice, moaning at the pain the sudden movement caused her.

Edward's powerful arms hugged her closer and he pressed his lips gently against her neck, trying to ignore the way her body tensed at his touch.

"You owe me a story," he said softly.

Isabella nodded and cleared her throat softly before beginning: "As the desert swallowed the echoes of Qadir's laugh, the sand around Noor and Mo began to shake. Qadir's bandits rose up from the sand like the waking dead. Who knows how long they had been hiding in those shallow crypts, waiting underneath their sand-covered shields for their next prey to appear. Mo and Noor suddenly found themselves surrounded by not ten or twenty but forty thieves, their weapons gleaming in the midday sun."

"Their blackavised leader appeared at the head of the most prominent dune, laughing to himself as he slid down from its peak.

"But his laughter stopped suddenly when he saw Mo's face. His yellow eyes hardened as they raked over the young man.

"Noor sensed the change in Qadir's mood and became very agitated, stomping her wide feet in the sand to alert Mo. But her master was as useless as ever.

"'You must be the bandit king I have been sent to find!' He said, looking very pleased with himself. 'See, Noor? We found him right away!'

"'Who are you?' Qadir asked. 'Who sent you?'

"'I am Mo, and this brazen creature is Noor,' he said. 'We were sent to find you by the city council. We have come to offer a ransom and beg you to leave the city alone.'

"Qadir's men looked first at each other and then at their leader before breaking out into raucous laughter. Mo joined in without hesitation, even though he wasn't quite sure of how he had amused them.

"At one gesture from their leader, however, the troop of thieves suddenly stopped laughing.

"'You are a fool, Mo,' Qadir said. 'But you may prove useful yet. You and your camel are coming with us.'

"The forty thieves and their ruthless leader led Mo and Noor through the ever-changing desert. As soon as their feet left a print in the sand, the wind swept it away. There were no landmarks for Noor to remember and Mo was too busy trying to chat with the stony-faced bandits to pay any attention to their surroundings.

"Finally, however, the convoy climbed over a dune and found themselves staring at the half-buried ruins of an ancient building. Qadir led the men and their captives through the slanting building until they reached a great wall, blank except for a carving of a woman. The king of thieves motioned for his men to stay behind. He walked up to the wall and whispered something in the statue's ear.

"Suddenly the whole building began to shake as the wall opened, revealing a dark passageway. The walls ground closed behind the convoy, leaving them in darkness. No one moved for a moment. And then the walls of the tunnel began to glow, bathing its occupants in a mysterious blue light.

"'Is this magic?' Mo asked, running his fingers along the wall.

"'Don't be stupid,' Qadir scoffed. 'It's fungi.'

"The bandit led the group down through the winding passageways until they finally emerged in a great underground chamber filled wall-to-wall with the thieves' plundered gains.

"Mo's jaw dropped. Noor snorted, trying to seem unimpressed.

"'Welcome to the den of thieves,' Qadir smirked."

"Shh!"

Isabella stopped speaking at Edward's sudden interruption. She could feel his body tense behind her.

He moved his arms from around her and pushed her slightly: "Get up," he said sharply.

With some effort, Isabella pulled herself to her feet. Edward stood up behind her, smoothing his hair with his broad hands.

"What's wrong?" She asked confusedly.

"Nothing," he muttered. "I've just had enough of your stories for now."

He balled the blanket she had given him between his hands, tossing it onto the bed.

But then Isabella heard what the king had - footsteps.

Sure enough, Carlisle entered the room moments later.

"Edward!" The doctor said in shock. "What are you doing here?"

He took in the king's naked torso and his eyes narrowed: "What have you done to her?"

"Nothing," the king snapped. "But it's clear to me now that she is not safe here. Anyone could have snuck in here while you were away."

"Safe?" The doctor asked incredulously. "The only person who has done any harm to her here is you!"

"Watch your tongue, Carlisle," Edward glowered. "It is my will that she be moved somewhere more secure while you treat her."

The doctor threw his hands in the air in a gesture of defeat.

"She will be moved into the chambers adjoining mine," he said.

"What? Do you plan on making me your queen?" Isabella scoffed, sitting down on the edge of her bed.

Edward rounded on the girl, his hands balled into fists. Carlisle leapt in front of him, guarding the girl from his anger.

"Calm yourself, Edward," he said. "I will do as you command."

Edward snarled beneath his breath but nodded, turning on his heel to stalk out of the infirmary.

Carlisle sighed in relief as the door slammed behind Edward. He turned to face Isabella and shook his head at the defiance in her eyes.

"Do you enjoy tempting his anger, my child?" He asked in disbelief.

"No," she admitted. "But before you walked in he was listening to my story with his arms wrapped around me. You know, as if he was capable of human emotions other than anger and hatred."

Carlisle sighed and motioned for the girl to slide back into the middle of the bed.

"I barely recognize the man he is now," the doctor said sadly, tucking the covers in around Isabella. "He has done unforgivable things."

The girl lay in silence as Carlisle prepared another herbal remedy for her pain.

"I had a dream last night," she said suddenly.

"Oh?" Carlisle asked, turning to bring her the cup of steaming medicine.

"Yes," she said, taking the cup. "Thank you."

"What was it about?" the doctor asked.

"The man who hurt me, he mentioned a name," she said, taking small sips of the potent mixture. "He talked about someone named Charles."

"Charles?" Carlisle repeated thoughtfully. "That is not a name commonly heard in this part of the world, is it?"

Isabella shook her head and then downed the last of the medicine, grimacing at the bitter taste.

"I'm sorry," Carlisle said, chuckling as he took the cup from the girl. "I don't know why all good medicine must taste so bad."

"It's worth it though," she said, smiling softly as the drink took its effect.

"I will look into that name for you," the doctor said, offering her a reassuring smile as her eyes blinked closed. "You just rest."

Carlisle left Isabella to sleep and walked slowly back to his office, intending to get back to making copies of the drawings he had made of Isabella's tattoos. But he barely had the chance to sit down at his desk when Jasper burst in through the door.

"Carlisle! How is she?" He asked earnestly. "Can I see her?"

"How dare you," Carlisle glowered, rising to his feet. "Get out of here now."

The vizier's brow furrowed in concern and confusion: "What? What are you talking about?"

"You are the reason this girl is going to be scarred for the rest of her life and yet you have the gall to endanger her again?" Carlisle cried. "Edward warned you what would happen if you tried to see her again and yet here you are!"

"I didn't mean for him to hurt her," Jasper said, his eyes wide and imploring.

"You are the reason she is in this mess in the first place," the doctor continued. "You can blame Edward and his madness but you have the blood of all those women on your hands as well, Jasper. And had you finally decided to be a man and face your death, perhaps Isabella would not be enduring torture."

"You don't mean that," Jasper gasped.

"I meant every word," the doctor growled. "I have a mind to do exactly as Edward commanded and report you to him."

The vizier took a step backward: "Carlisle, please don't."

"If I don't, it's only because that twisted man might take it out on the wrong person," the old man snapped.

"I just want to know if she's all right," Jasper begged.

"She will be fine as long as you stay away from her," Carlisle replied. "Now get out."

 **~~~~0o0o0o~~~~**

Edward stood before the doors to his wife's chamber and took a deep breath before swinging them wide.

A breeze fluttered in through the open window, sending the gauzy curtains dancing. He almost expected to see Irina walking in from the balcony, flowers braided into her long, dark hair.

I wonder when she turned on me. He thought ruefully. How many fake smiles did she throw my way? How many nights did she pretend I was someone else as s-he moaned beneath me?

Edward shook the dark thoughts from his head and motioned for a team of servants to follow him inside.

"Clear everything out," he commanded. "Burn it all."

He watched for a few moments as the servants began to cart the heavy wooden furniture out of the room.

"I want this room to be stripped of all its fineries by the time I return from court this evening," he commanded. "And if I find that any of it has made its way outside of these palace walls, not one of you will live long enough to regret it."

The servants paused to bow and then continued their tasks. Edward turned on his heel and left the room. But, instead of heading to the throne room, he climbed the winding staircase that led to his father's old observatory. His father had charted the stars from the balcony that wrapped around the circumference of the tower. Just as with Irina's room, Edward had left it just as he had found it.

Not a scrap of paper had been moved in the time since his father passed. A thick layer of dust coated every inch of the room. Except, that is, for a wooden box that sat on the desk.

Edward opened it and stared down at trinkets he had taken from the gypsy. He picked up one of the shells and rolled it between his fingers.

A cowry. He thought to himself. Not surprising. Every man between here and Liguri has probably used these shells to barter with at some point.

The shell told him nothing about the gypsy's origins. The cowry itself probably came from the waters off Africa but it could have travelled thousands of miles and been passed through hundreds of hands. There was no telling where the gypsy came across it. He placed the shell on the table and picked up another charm. This one was a bright blue glass bead decorated with seven sets of circles, each filled with even smaller circles.

An Egyptian eye bead. He thought, examining the opaque glass closely before setting the bead carefully down on the table.

The next keepsake he pulled from the box was also a bead. This one, however, was long and thin. It was orange except for where it had been etched with black and white stripes etched around it.

Carved agate? He wondered. That would have come from Tibet.

Edward sighed and dropped the charms back into the box. The gypsy's mementos came from all over the known world. There was no telling which ones, if any, held clues to her past. He ran his fingers through the box, making a mental list of the peoples they represented: the Garamantes, the Yue, the Sabaeans, the Illyrians... There was only one trinket Edward could not identify.

He picked up the small silver coin, studying the marks stamped into it. It looked like a seal of some kind. A man's profile was embossed into the coin, and it was surrounded by three dolphins. He had never seen a coin like this before. There was a small hole in the metal and Isabella had looped a piece of string through it so she could weave the coin into her hair.

Edward placed the coin gently back in the box. He knew it would be useless to question Isabella about the coin - the gypsy had made it clear she knew nothing about the trinkets other than the fact that they were hers. He snapped the lid of the box closed and turned away from the desk.

He rubbed his temples with his fingers, wincing at the memory of Isabella's tear-streaked face as if it actually hurt his head to think of it. The gypsy had looked so heartbroken. But that was what he had wanted... To see the same pain that he had experienced after Irina's betrayal reflected in her eyes.

He rolled his shoulders, shaking off his weakness. Revenge was his road to salvation, and the gypsy would not be the one to get in his way.

 **~~~~0o0o0o~~~~**

Isabella followed the guards leading her to Edward's chamber glumly. The marble floors were cold on her bare feet and her back throbbed.

Edward was waiting for her at the door to the queen's chambers. He pushed the door wide and the guards led her into the dark chamber. The room was empty but for a low bed. Moonlight shone in through the windows, which were securely bolted shut.

"I see you spared no expense," the girl said sarcastically. "What lavish quarters."

"Bite your tongue, gypsy," Edward snapped.

The king surveyed the room, seemingly satisfied that it was secure enough for his slave. Then he noticed oil lamp the servants had been left for Isabella.

"I don't think I can trust you with this," he said, stooping to pick it up. "You might try to burn this whole place down."

"Oh no, but I'm afraid of the dark," she taunted.

"You're just begging for another beating, aren't you?" He glowered. "Well the only thing you have to fear is the treatment I have in store for you in a few days."

The girl steeled herself from rolling her eyes.

"You're lucky I am a man of my word," he continued. "Had I not promised Carlisle five days to treat you, your wounded back would be leaving bloodstains on my bed right now."

"You're sick," she hissed.

"So I've been told," he smirked. "But you are the one in the doctor's care right now. I suggest you rest while you can."

Isabella's upper lip curled in a contemptuous but silent snarl as she watched the king follow his guards out of the room, taking the only light source she had with him. The key turned in the lock and she was alone.

But she was not in the dark. Isabella smiled to herself as moonlight flooded the room in the absence of the yellow lamplight.

"Not even you can snuff out the moon, oh King of kings," she breathed.

Isabella crossed the room and lay down on the bed, staring at the silver-lit ceiling. Although the walls of the chamber were bare, the ceiling had been painted with a beautiful mural. Flowering vines wove in and around each other, creating an intricate geometric pattern. The gold paint glowed in the pale moonlight, illuminating the carefully plotted twists and turns of the foliage. The ropes beneath the mattress creaked softly as she settled under the covers, shivering in spite of the warmth of the chamber.

After all, this was the room that Edward's wife had plotted against him from. Had she lain awake at night, staring up at these same flowers while she dreamt of bloody daggers?

Isabella sighed in frustration and turned onto her side. She did not want to think about Edward a second longer. And yet she had done nothing but lie in bed all day... Pray as she might for sleep to take her, she doubted that it would anytime soon.

But sleep was merciful tonight and, in a few moments, she was dreaming deeply once again.

Her eyes blink open and she is back in that dark cabin. The ship creaks and rolls softly and she knows instinctively that the vessel is riding at anchor. There is no sound of anyone else aboard. She moves to stand but cannot. Ropes bind her wrists behind her back. Chains around her ankles secure her to the wooden floor.

She leans her head against the wall and watches the moon glinting off the waves outside the cabin window. Her eyelids feel so heavy.

The ship pitches violently, stirring her from the ocean's trance. She sees a shadow creeping up the window. It opens. The shadow walks inside.

She is not afraid of the shadow. It is not his shadow, so why should she fear it?

The shadow walks closer. Dark eyes gleam from behind a dark mask. He is a man after all. He is clothed head-to-toe in black. A sword hangs from each hip. Blades spark silver in the moonlight.

"Who are you?" She asks. Her voice is a million miles away.

The dark man does not answer. He kneels before her and cocks his head, those dark eyes appraising her. He reaches out a hand and she notices that his knuckles are tattooed.

"Wandering star," she reads.

His eyes glint and she knows he is smiling behind his mask.

"Yes," he says. His voice is like thunder in the distance. "I'm a lonely, wandering star."

He reaches behind her back and pulls her hands. The bindings fall apart and into dust. He holds her hands before his, running his tattooed fingers over hers.

"And you are wild waves," he says.

"I know that," she says, almost defensively. She knows she is from the sea. "How do you know that? I have never seen you before in my life."

"But I've seen you," he says. "Though I don't yet know where."

The man lets go of her hands. She feels a sudden and sharp loss in her heart when his fingers leave hers. He reaches up and pulls off the mask he is wearing. His angular features are familiar to her. Strands of midnight curl around his face. His eyes are like starlight, glowing fearsomely silver in the shadows.

 **~~~~0o0o0o~~~~**

 **Hi Friends!**

 **There you go. The first chapter that doesn't have violence or rape. I hope that this is a welcome relief from the chapters that came before. I know that the theme had been a bit hard on some readers and yet I thank all who still stayed with me and for my new readers who followed and favorite this story. It makes my heart warm with love that you all deem the story worth reading.**

 **As always, all reviews are being read and cherished. I'm sorry if I haven't replied to all reviews and PM's but rest assured that every single one is like a little hug that warms my heart.**

 **Until next time friends…**

 **XOXO Kate :D**


	9. Chapter 9

**The King and His Isabella**

 **Chapter 9**

 **Disclaimer: All twilight characters are not mine. Just the plot of the story.**

"Qadir, your eyes are meant to be gold" she frowns. "And this is my story. You do not belong here."

The man laughs, flashing her a brilliant smile: "I can tell right now that I do," he says, fixing those argent eyes on her once again.

"You will see me again," he says.

"No I won't. He will come back and the ship will leave," she says.

He leans forward and his eyes threaten to consume her: "He is not the master of your fate."

"I know that too," she says, a smile turning her lips.

"I'm not going to try and save you," he says.

"I don't need you to," she replies. "Besides, whenever a man tries to save me, I seem to end up in more trouble."

"Then you definitely don't need me to interfere," he laughs but it is a sad laugh.

She leans in closer and the clouds in his eyes clear.

"But I will see you again, and soon," he says.

His face disappears into the shadows again and the ship rocks at anchor as if he had never tread her well-worn decks.

 _ **~~~~0o0o0o~~~~**_

Isabella's eyes blinked open and she looked around the room dazedly. Her vision focused as the door to the room opened and Edward strode inside.

"Still in bed, gypsy?" He asked. "Well, I guess that is where you belong."

Isabella propped herself up slowly.

"If you've come to ask for more of my story, this is not the way to do it," Isabella said bitterly.

"Today is day two, gypsy," he said, ignoring her. "You have three more days of rest before your body is at my disposal once again."

"Do you want to hear more about Qadir and Mo or not?" She asked.

"I don't have time for fairytales today," he said. "The king of thieves will have to wait."

"I think I dreamt of Qadir last night," she murmured, more to herself than Edward. "He was dressed all in black and he had tattoos on his knuckles."

Edward's eyes narrowed: "Tattoos?"

Isabella looked up at him and nodded: "They said "wandering star" in Arabic."

The king suddenly went pale, his eyes scanned the room wildly: "Guards! Guards!"

"What's wrong?" She cried.

The guards rushed into the room, swords drawn.

"He was here!" Edward roared. "He was here in my fucking palace! In this very room!"

"Who was here?" Isabella asked, rising to her feet.

"Check the windows!" He cried, brushing past the girl. "Make sure none of the locks are broken."

The guards sheathed their swords and began to inspect the windows.

"Here!" One of the guards announced. He pushed open one of the windows and it opened easily, the lock hanging uselessly from the frame.

Edward's heart fell into his stomach. That was the window he always used to sneak out of the palace. The intruder would have climbed up those very same vines.

"Board up the windows," he commanded, his voice thick with fear. "Cut the vines outside. He must not get back in."

As the guards rushed off to act on Edward's commands the king suddenly shouted out for two of them to remain with him.

"The two of you must always be at my sides from now on," he said. "He must never have the opportunity to catch me alone or he will finish what he started."

"Who?" Isabella cried impatiently. "Edward, it was just a dream."

"No it wasn't!" The king snarled, rounding on the girl. "Those tattoos you describe belong to a very real man."

Edward began to pace the room agitatedly, his fingers trembling as he ran them through his hair.

"Fuck!" He yelled, slamming his fist into his palm. "Fuck!"

"I don't understand," Isabella said. "Who was here?"

"The man you described is the man who brainwashed my wife into trying to murder me," Edward said. "He convinced her to do it so he could steal the throne from me."

Isabella sat down on the edge of the bed, watching the king warily as he muttered to himself under his breath.

"He wants to kill me," he mumbled. "He won't rest till he has my head on a stake."

The king turned to Isabella, his eyes ablaze: "What did he do? Did he say anything to you?"

"I asked him who he was but he didn't answer," she explained. "Then I saw his tattoos. He said that he was a "lonely, wandering star" and that I was "wild waves"."

She paused, debating whether or not to tell him that Jacob had promised to see her again. Edward's wild eyes flitted across her face anxiously as he waited for her to continue.

"I don't remember anything after that," she said finally.

Edward groaned into his palms.

"I thought it was just a dream," she said.

"More like a nightmare," the king snarled. "That "wandering star" is my banished brother - Jacob."

Isabella hugged her knees to her chest and watched sullenly as the panels of light that stretched out across the floor before her bed were blocked out one by one. The thick pieces of wood let in only the slimmest rays of sunshine, scarcely enough to light the room.

Once the last window was boarded up, she heard the key in the door. Edward walked inside, his eyes darting about the dim room as if he expected Jacob to appear out of the shadows.

Finally satisfied that his brother was not hiding in the room, Edward fixed his eyes on the girl.

"He said something else to you," he muttered, stating the question more than asking it.

"He didn't," she said. "Or, if he did, I can't remember."

"Don't lie to me gypsy."

"I thought it was a dream," she said. "He was straight out of a story."

"One of your stories," Edward retorted, his tone accusing.

"Do you want to hear more of it?" She asked, uncurling her long legs.

Edward's eyes flashed to her pale skin for just a moment before he turned his molten gaze away.

"No," he growled.

"But don't you want to know why Qadir looked at Mo so strangely?"

"Fine," the king said, throwing a hand in the air dismissively.

"Qadir welcomed Mo to the den of thieves with a smirk -"

"No," Edward interrupted sharply. "I don't want the whole story. Just tell me why the king of thieves would bother to spare the life of a fool."

"Well," Isabella said hesitantly, "they were brothers."

"Brothers?" Edward snorted. "I should have guessed it."

The girl fiddled with the sheets on the bed. She had not expected Edward to demand the twist to the story.

Suddenly Edward rounded on her: "Brothers? So in your story Jacob is Qadir and I'm Mo?"

"No," the young woman said, her restless fingers abandoning their idle work. Her brows furrowed in confusion.

"You're on thin ice as it is, gypsy," Edward growled beneath his breath. "From now on, unless my dick is in your mouth, I suggest you keep it shut."

"It was just a story," the girl said, incredulity building in her voice. "It wasn't about you!"

"Did my brother send you here?" Edward asked. "Huh? Are you working for him?"

"You really are insane, aren't you?" Isabella cried. "It was just a fucking story!"

Edward's hand flew back and the girl shielded her face with her arms instinctively. But the blow never came.

The king's hand stopped mere inches from her face, his fingers trembling with the rage he was holding inside. He withdrew his hand and turned his back on the girl.

"They will call me many things when I am dead," he muttered, "but dishonest is not one of them. I will not lay a hand on you for three more days."

Isabella lowered her arms as Edward retreated.

He threw her a dark glance over his shoulder: "But then you are mine."

The king stalked out through the doors, slamming them closed behind him so that the two sides met with an almighty crash.

Isabella sucked her teeth angrily and scowled around at the empty room. She heard Edward giving more orders outside, his deep voice muffled by the walls. And then there was silence.

The girl sighed and sat down on the edge of her bed, sinking softly onto her back to gaze up at the maze of flowers on the ceiling.

"I wonder if boredom or Edward will kill me first." She mused aloud.

A few hours passed before she heard life in the adjoining room. Isabella propped herself up on the bed, waiting anxiously to see who would enter her room.

She could not help but smile when the doors opened to reveal Carlisle. But the weak smile the old man offered her in return filled her heart with dread.

"Carlisle?" She asked as the doors closed behind the doctor. "What's wrong?"

"I'm worried for you my dear," he said gravely.

"Jacob did not harm me," she assured him.

"It is not him that I worry about," he said.

Carlisle refused to speak anymore until he had tended to the girl's wounds. He was pleased to see that they were healing well, and much quicker than he had dared hope for. Even with the girl's health improving, however, the doctor was troubled.

After he had finished his examination, he sat down at the foot of Isabella's bed, rubbing his aching temples.

"It is not Jacob that I worry about," he said finally. "I worry what Edward will do now that he perceives his brother as a threat again."

The girl shrugged, her actions portraying more bravery than she felt: "It cannot be much worse than what he has already promised."

Carlisle shuddered and he pulled the girl's hands between his gnarled fingers, holding them firmly.

"He is more dangerous now than ever before," he warned. "I know your heart must be heavy with the weight of the injustices he has thrown after you but you must try your hardest not to bait his anger right now. He believes his brother instigated Irina's treachery. He tortured him within an inch of his life before Jacob's allies helped him escape. He will not hesitate to pass down the same fate to anyone he believes to be in league with his brother."

"But I'm not in league with him," Isabella said. "I didn't even know who he was!"

"I know that," the doctor reassured her, "and no reasonable man would believe anything otherwise, but Edward is not a reasonable man anymore."

The girl nodded, turning her blazing eyes away from the old man so that he could not see how loathe she was to agree to obedience.

"I believe that Jasper is going to try to see you," Carlisle continued, "but you must not speak with him. No matter what he says to you, you must obey Edward's orders and not speak to him or look at him. I have warned him not to come, for your sake and his, but may try to see you anyway."

The doctor squeezed Isabella's hands tightly: "You must promise me that you will not disobey Edward. If not for your own sake, then for Jasper's."

The girl bit her lower lip but nodded again: "I promise."

Carlisle sighed and smiled relieved at the young woman. He knew it hurt her pride to give in to Edward's orders, but he feared that the king would hurt her far worse if he discovered her disobedience.

"If I linger any longer the guards might suspect something," he said, rising to head for the door.

Isabella did not watch as the doors closed again, leaving her alone and in silence once again. She heard the doctor's words echo in her head over and over again, understanding the sense in them but hating what they meant for her. Jasper, after all, had been the only person other than Carlisle to show her any kindness. He had saved her.

Did he? Came a bitter voice in her head. Who did he save me from? A couple fishermen? I would have been better off in their hands than in Edward's. Perhaps Carlisle was right to blame Jasper - he saw injustice occurring at his friend's hands and did nothing to stop him.

Hot tears welled as she thought about the vizier. She had thought him so handsome when he had pulled her away from the fishermen, his eyes filled with sunlight and his skin smooth against hers. He had held her, kissed the tears from her face... and, for the first time, she had wondered whether there could be someone in this world that might love her.

"Fool," she muttered.

Jasper did not love her. He thought her beautiful, but that was all. Her heart grew heavy with the realization that the vizier would not understand why she was ignoring him.

If he loved me, he wouldn't come. She thought. But he will. He wants to assuage his guilt, and he will get angry when I turn away from him.

The girl groaned into the palms of her hands and crawled back into the bed, clamping her eyes shut against the world.

 _ **~~~~0o0o0o~~~~**_

The day dragged on slowly. Silent servants brought her food and water, the latter of which she gulped down gratefully. Now that the windows were boarded shut, the heat of the room grew oppressive. She sweltered in the dark room, forsaking her bed for the slightly cooler touch of the stone floors.

She lay sprawled across the hard stone, her eyes fixed on the slim space of light between the door and the floor. She felt as though she were in a daze. She swore she could feel each bead of sweat snaking its way down her body before dropping onto the floor.

Isabella had felt this kind of stifling heat before. Grim thoughts from days spent drifting at sea roiled in her mind, making her limbs heavy with the weight of past pains.

If I and my memories are left alone much longer, she thought grimly, I'm going to end up as mad as Edward.

Finally she heard footsteps and saw dark shadows flashing across the glimmer of light that shone in under the door. She sat up as the door opened, closing her eyes as the sudden sunlight blinded her. Cool air rushed over her and she laughed under her breath at the freshness of the air. She almost did not care who it was that had entered...

"Oh my God, Isabella, are you all right?"

But she could not keep her heart from sinking when she recognized the voice as Jasper's. She knew he would not understand.

"It's a furnace in here," Jasper said, kneeling down beside her. "Have you had any water?"

Isabella turned her head away, refusing to meet his gaze.

"Are you all right? Do you need water?" He asked again, grabbing her arms and shaking her slightly. "Speak to me!"

The girl pulled herself away from the vizier and stood up, turning her back to him.

Jasper rose to his feet slowly, his green eyes imploring. For every step he took towards the girl, she took two to get away.

"Are you serious, Isabella?" He asked. "You're not speaking to me? You won't look at me?"

The girl said nothing. She bowed her head, her heart aching at the pain in Jasper's voice.

"You're obeying Edward's orders?" He asked, steadily approaching her.

Isabella gave the slightest nod.

"He's not here," Jasper said. "He won't find out. Talk to me. Just let me hear your voice. Let me hold you."

She wrapped her arms around herself and shook her head slightly.

"Are you mad at me? Is that it?" He asked. "I had to hurt you - he made me, Isabella!"

The girl did not move.

"You know I would never want to hurt you," he said. "Please talk to me."

Isabella remained stoically silent.

"Don't blame me!" He cried. "This is Edward's fault!"

Jasper caught up with the girl, grabbing her hand and pulling her towards him gently. She struggled against his touch, wrenching herself free as he tried to wrap his arms around her.

"Stop, Isabella, you're going to hurt yourself," he murmured angrily. "Stop fighting me!"

But she was unrelenting. Jasper watched, the confusion and hurt growing in his eyes, as she twisted and pulled.

Finally he let her go and she fell backwards onto the bed with a gasp of pain. She moaned and rolled onto her side, blood blossoming onto her dress. She sat up slowly, her back to Jasper.

He stared at the blood, horror and heartbreak written clearly across his face.

"Fine," he whispered. "If this is how you want it, then fine."

She bowed her head, tears filling her eyes. She knew what was coming next.

"If you'd rather hurt yourself than be near me, then I will not trouble you anymore," he said, his voice thick with emotion.

She dug her fingernails into her skin, trying to distract herself from the pain building in her heart. He was abandoning her to her fate, after everything she had done to protect him. Whatever heartbreak Jasper was feeling, the ache in her chest was ten times that. She wanted to turn around and scream at him, give voice to the betrayal she was experiencing. But that would endanger them both.

"Do not look to me for help ever again," he said. "I am no longer your ally here and you owe me nothing."

Silent tears spilled from Isabella's azure eyes as Jasper slammed the doors closed behind him. She buried her face in the pillow, letting it muffle her sobs.

"I did it to save you, you stupid ass," she whispered, her tears staining the fabric.

 _ **~~~~0o0o0o~~~~**_

Edward entered his chambers with a sigh of relief. It had been a long day, and even his bones felt weary. His empire was vast and it took a great deal of strategy to keep its trade lively, its enemies at bay, and its boundaries secure.

He threw off his heavy, formal robes and went to sit down at the table with a bottle of wine, when Isabella began pounding at the door from the queen's chamber.

"Edward!" Came her muffled voice. "Let me out!"

He sighed and set the bottle down on the table.

"Are you going to be good if I do?" He asked, walking towards the doors lazily.

He laughed to himself when she did not respond and turned the key in the lock. A rush of hot air escaped from the room as he pushed the doors open.

Isabella stumbled out of the room, breathing in deeply the cool air. Her long, blonde locks clung to her skin and her limbs shone with sweat.

"God, gypsy, do you look a sight," he breathed, taking in the pathetic figure she cut.

The girl threw him a contemptuous glance as she began to walk towards the balcony. She passed through the gauzy curtains and into the night's embrace, reveling in the sharp chill of the evening air.

Edward poured himself a glass of wine and then followed her out. He noticed then the stain of blood on the back of her dress. He ran his fingers up her spine, causing her to arch her back slightly at his touch.

"Why were you bleeding, gypsy?" He asked.

She shrugged her shoulders: "I didn't know I was."

"You still think I don't know when you're lying?" He scoffed.

The girl pulled her hair into a loose knot over her head, letting the dripping strands hold themselves in place.

"My deceitful vizier came to see you, didn't he?" Edward asked, swirling his wine in its glass. "And don't lie to me."

Isabella nodded.

"And did you remember the order I gave you?" He asked, his fingers suddenly around the back of her neck.

"I did," she muttered.

"You didn't look at him, speak to him, or touch him?" He asked, his nails digging into her flesh.

"No, I did not," she replied through gritted teeth.

"Good girl," he said condescendingly, pulling his hand away.

"I'm sure he wasn't pleased about that, was he?" The king continued.

She shook her head slightly.

"Hmm, now, let me think," He pondered, "what would my cowardly friend have said to you?"

Isabella set her jaw and steeled her heart. She would not show Edward her weakness.

"He blamed you for surrendering to me, didn't he?" He asked. "He wouldn't have apologized for his role in all this."

Edward's fingers were at the small of her back again, tracing slowly around the reddened patch of fabric.

"You know him well," Isabella said curtly.

"No, I know human nature," he responded harshly. "You can call me crazy all you want, but I am the master of millions and I did not become so by being a fool."

"Being a fool and being crazy are not the same thing," she rejoined bitterly. "I never accused you of stupidity. Just insanity."

Edward's fingers moved lower and he grabbed her ass, gently kneading her with his fingers.

She growled and pulled away from him: "Don't touch me."

"I will touch you whenever and wherever I want," Edward sneered. "Your precious Jasper may have abandoned you, but that doesn't make your promise null and void. You are still mine to do with as I please."

Isabella's sapphire eyes glowed fiercely.

"You need a bath, gypsy," he said, appraising her ragged appearance once again. "Come with me."

He motioned her after him as he disappeared through the curtains. He set his wine back down and then led her into his bathing chambers.

Edward pulled his own shirt over his head before turning to the girl. She was watching him warily, her arms crossed over her chest.

"Come here, gypsy," he said, dropping his shirt to the floor. "Let me help you."

"I don't need your help," she muttered.

"Don't be foolish," he said. "Your back must hurt, let me help you."

Isabella stepped towards him nervously and unfolded her arms.

Edward's amber eyes held hers as he ran his fingers along the hem of her dress, grazing her thighs. He lifted the dress up slowly, pulling it gently over her head.

As soon as her arms were free, Isabella folded them over her breasts, shielding them from Edward's burning gaze.

The king walked around her and gathered her hair in his hand, brushing the stray strands from her back so that he could look at her wounds. He grimaced slightly at the carnage. It was hard for him to believe that all those scars had come from his own hand.

He ran a gentle finger along one whip line that stretched the length of her spine. Isabella's entire body steeled at his touch and she cried out when he reached a tender spot on her back.

Edward withdrew his hand and let her hair fall.

"Sorry," he muttered, brushing past her.

He pulled off his trousers and waded into the water, turning around once he was waist-deep to gesture for her to enter.

Isabella followed him into the water slowly, letting her body adjust to the temperature. When she was finally inside, she waded to the other side of the pool, as far away from Edward as she could get.

Edward chuckled to himself as he walked through the water to stand in front of her, his chest inches from hers. He drew handfuls of water over her shoulders, watching as the droplets left glistening paths down her skin.

"You really are beautiful, you know," he whispered.

She turned her back to him, straining against the urge she felt inside to slap him across his face.

"So beautiful," he whispered, burying his face in her hair.

"Leave me alone," she murmured angrily.

"You're mine, gypsy," he reminded her darkly. "I give the orders."

"You know I don't take kindly to those," she said.

"That's part of your allure," he said, drawing away slightly. "Dip your head back."

She glanced over her should at him, her eyebrows drawn up.

"To wet your hair, girl," he said. "Dip your head back."

She closed her eyes and dropped her head backwards into the water. Edward's fingers ran across her scalp and through her hair, teasing the tangles apart gently.

After a few moments, she raised her head and turned around to face Edward: "I don't understand you."

"You don't have to," he said. "You just have to do as I say."

Isabella sighed in frustration.

"And right now, I want you to relax," he said, reaching out to trace the curve of her cheek.

"How can I?" She asked, pulling away. "You're so unpredictable. Next thing I know I might be tied up and begging for my life."

"Now that's just not true," he said, a hint of mischief in his voice, "you would never beg."

She scowled at him: "It's like taking a bath with a crocodile."

"Oh don't worry," he said, flashing her a wicked grin, "you have three more days before you're in danger of me biting you."

"Is this a joke to you?" She asked incredulously.

"I like seeing you riled up, gypsy," he said, rolling his shoulders nonchalantly. "You just look so cute when you're angry."

He grabbed her waist and pulled her around so that her back was to him before wrapping her in a tight embrace. Isabella shivered as his lips brushed against her neck.

"And I've never seen a woman look as pretty when she cries as you do," he murmured.


	10. Chapter 10

**The King and His Isabella**

 **Chapter 10**

 **Disclaimer: All twilight characters are not mine. Just the plot of the story.**

"What if I stopped fighting?" She asked. "Would you get sick of me?"

"Submission isn't in your nature," he said. "You'd get fed up with the charade far quicker than I would."

He was right, and she knew it.

"I like the thought of you as a submissive little whore," he whispered. "Oh the things I would make you do..."

Isabella gasped angrily and tried to wrench herself free but Edward's powerful arms held her close.

"See?" He laughed.

Isabella stopped struggling, resigning herself to the feel of his skin against hers.

"I want to fuck you so hard, gypsy," he whispered. "These past few days have been painful for me."

She shuddered at the lust in his voice. She could feel Edward's cock growing between her ass cheeks as he ground his hips gently against hers.

"I've got a big load saved up for you," he murmured. "Where do you want it?"

"Shut up," she snarled.

"In your mouth?" He continued, ignoring her. "Or inside your tight little cunt?"

"I don't want you anywhere near me," she growled, renewing her struggle against his rippling muscles.

He let her go suddenly, laughing as she fell forward through the water. She spun around angrily, fuming at him.

Edward's eyes fixed on her heaving breasts: "How about all over your tits?"

Isabella clapped her hands over her breasts. Her eyes flashed daggers at the king.

"You're just going to have to keep fantasizing, Edward," she snapped.

"How about you tell me a story to ease my aching cock," he said. "Tell me about the sultan's stubborn slave girl who learned to love the sting of her master's hand across her bare ass."

"I like to keep my stories at least somewhat realistic," she retorted sarcastically.

"I don't know," he said mockingly, "you seem like a glutton for punishment to me."

"Oh yes, just what I need, more scars to compliment my existing set."

"Not if you're a good little slut and do exactly as master says," he purred.

"If you think I'm ever going to call you "master", prepare to be disappointed," she bit back.

Edward grabbed her wrist and pulled her sharply towards him. She gasped as she stumbled against his chest. He grabbed her ass with both of his hands, pressing his body against hers. His cock was fully erect and it brushed against her lower belly as he moved against her.

Isabella tried to push him away but the king simply leaned in closer. His cognac eyes raked over her torso, smiling smugly at her erect nipples.

"You don't have to say a fucking word if you don't want to," he said. "You can just pout those pretty lips of yours and moan in ecstasy."

"Ecstasy?" She scoffed, holding him at arm's length. "You will not be the man to make me do that."

Edward stopped suddenly, his hands still gripped her ass but they had stopped moving.

"Do you mean, you've never had an orgasm?" He asked.

"I know, isn't it strange?" She taunted bitterly. "All those times I've been raped and I've never once taken any pleasure in it."

Remorse fluttered across Edward's countenance for the briefest moment. He had not thought of what he was doing as rape - she was his slave. Legally, he could do whatever he wanted to her. The thrill he got from taking her as forcefully as he could? That was his right as her master.

But the regret passed as quickly as it had come.

"If anyone is going to make you cum, gypsy," he said, "it will be me."

"Not fucking likely," she snarled.

"Oh, darling, I can promise you," he smiled darkly. "As soon as I get inside you, you're not going to be able to hold in your screams."

"At least we can agree on something," she said, rolling her eyes.

"You're going to be on your knees begging for more by the time I'm through with you," he murmured.

"As you said, I would never beg," she replied, catching him out with his own words.

"You're not just a pretty face, are you?" He asked, his dark eyes sparking. "Did you give your former master the same tongue lashing you're giving me?"

Isabella's eyes suddenly filled with tears of rage: "Stop it."

"Should I take that as a "yes"?" He asked, brushing past the warning in her voice.

"Did you force yourself on Irina the way you do me?" She countered.

Now it was Edward's turn to feel anger bubbling in the pit of his stomach. His eyes hardened for a moment before softening again.

"So, he was your Irina?" He asked softly. His hands moved from her ass to rest on her hips.

"He was much, much worse," she said softly.

"I can't imagine anything worse than her betrayal," he said.

"That is because you are not a woman," she replied matter-of-factly.

"I will not bring him up again," Edward said, "so long as you promise to do the same for me."

Isabella's blue eyes considered him for a moment, but then she nodded.

"You must be hungry," Edward said suddenly. "Let us eat."

The girl nodded, following him out of the pool. She kept her eyes on the ground as he wrapped a towel around his waist. He turned around and smiled softly when he turned around to find her trying to shield her nakedness with her hands.

"I've seen your body, Isabella," he said. "Why bother trying to hide it from me?"

"Because it's mine," she snapped, "and you have no right to it."

"A point we will continue to disagree upon," he said, grinning at her lustily.

Her lips pursed in anger and she glowered at him from behind her golden hair.

Finally Edward relented and brought her a towel, watching as she wrapped it around her lithe body.

As the king left the room to order for food to be brought, Isabella took the opportunity to change back into her dress. She pulled the bloodstained shift over her head, grimacing at how rough the cloth felt in comparison to Edward's luxurious towels.

She emerged from the bathing chamber to find Edward already sitting at the table, his plate laden with food. She stood off to the side, waiting for him to invite her to sit down.

"Gypsy, are we going to go through this every time?" He asked wearily. "Sit the fuck down and eat before I change my mind."

Isabella took her place at the table, piling food onto her plate.

"Careful, girl," Edward said, his own mouth full, "or you're going to get fat."

"Maybe then you'll stop trying to fuck me every time I move," she said drily.

Edward laughed. It was an honest, heartfelt laugh that rumbled up from his belly, and it caught Isabella fully off-guard.

She stared at the king, her fork poised before her mouth. She had never heard the man actually laugh before. Part of her wondered when the last time he had laughed was.

The young woman studied him as he laughed: There was something about the way the corners of his eyes crinkled, the way his broad smile stretched across his face, the way the dark gleam in his eyes suddenly disappeared, something that made him seem less of a monster.

His laughter faded and he caught the way she was looking at him: "What is it?"

Isabella shook her head as if to clear it: "Nothing."

"Tell me," he pressed, taking a long draught from his wine.

"Sometimes I forget you're just a man," she whispered.

Edward snorted: "I am much more than that."

He smiled to himself and then looked at her, his eyes searching for something hidden.

"Sometimes, I forget you are more than you appear," he said.

She offered him a heartfelt smile - the first she had ever given him - and said: "Much more than that."

He leaned back in his chair and yawned: "I am tired, gypsy, finish your meal."

She swallowed her last bite and put her cutlery down. She glanced over her shoulder at the hot, dark room that awaited her.

"Are you going to lock me in there again tomorrow?" She asked.

"That was my plan," he said.

"It's so hot in there," she said. "Can't you let them open one of the windows? Just one?"

"And what? Give Jacob another opportunity to break in to my palace?" He snapped. "Not a fucking chance."

Isabella sighed disappointedly.

"But you don't have to sleep in there if you don't want," he said.

"No thanks, I wouldn't want to get blood on your sheets," she remarked disparagingly.

"You really are a stubborn little shit, aren't you?" Edward scowled.

"Why? Because I would rather sleep alone in that furnace than next to the man who rapes and beats me?"

"Maybe if you weren't so obstinate, I wouldn't have to," he rejoined.

"You like it, Edward, admit it," she fumed. "You're a sick bastard and you can't blame that on me."

"God you're infuriating," Edward hissed, rising to his feet. He banged his fist on the door and two servants appeared immediately through it to clear away the dishes.

As soon as they left, he bolted the door behind them and began putting out the lights, muttering angrily to himself.

The gypsy watched him for a few moments, holding her breath as she weighed her options.

"I'll sleep with you if you promise not to lock me in that room tomorrow," she said suddenly, her words tumbling out of her mouth all at once.

Edward turned on his heel and looked at the girl as if she had gone mad: "What did you say?"

"I said that I will sleep with you if you promise not to lock me in that room again tomorrow," she repeated.

"You think I want you to sleep with me?" He asked in disbelief. "You think I give a shit where you sleep?"

"Yes, I do," she said staunchly. "I think you want to have someone in your arms and, at this point, you don't really care who."

Edward snarled under his breath and turned away, continuing to darken the room.

"It's too hot in that room," she said. "And your chamber is just as secure."

Edward sighed as he extinguished the last lamp. The only light now came from the flame flickering beside his bed.

"Fine, gypsy," he muttered, "I will not lock you in the queen's chamber tomorrow."

Isabella nodded, triumph sparking briefly in the azure depths of her eyes.

"But, if you're going to sleep with me," he said, a roguish smile curving his lips, "then you're going to have to take that dress off."

The girl's eyes narrowed but she stood up and pulled the dress over her head. She held her head high as she walked towards him, trying not to tremble under the molten amber of his gaze. She held out the dress to him and he took it, throwing it over his shoulder without his eyes ever leaving hers.

"That's better," he smiled, looking her up and down. Her hair fell down across her breasts, her nipples just visible behind the golden curtain.

He pulled off his towel and let it fall to the floor. He leaned in close to her, drawing her face to his with a gentle hand behind her neck so that he could kiss her.

Isabella closed her eyes and kissed him back, remembering what had happened the last time she had refused to accept his kiss.

He pulled away from her and stared deeply into her eyes. Whatever he was looking for, he still could not find.

He climbed into bed and gestured for her to lay beside him. She slipped under the covers and turned her back to him. He did not try to touch her.

She listened to his breathing grow slower and deeper before letting herself relax and fall into sleep.

But Edward was not asleep. He turned his head and stared at the sleeping girl, the scars on her back illuminated by the flickering light of the candle beside the bed. He reached out and snuffed the light between his fingers, trying to find that tiniest hint of redemption in the sting of the flame.

 _ **~~~~0o00o0o~~~~**_

Edward woke with the dawning light to find his arms wrapped tightly around the sleeping girl.

He pulled away gently, trying not to wake her. She looked so beautiful drenched in the rosy light of morning.

Edward ran a finger over her lips. She moaned softly, still fast asleep. The king closed his eyes, his balls tightening as he slipped his finger gently inside her mouth.

He groaned at the sudden desire that swept over him. He wanted to push his finger deeper inside her mouth and feel that velvety tongue caressing his skin. He wanted to tear the blankets off her, take her rosebud nipples into his mouth and bite and suck on them. He wanted to force himself inside her smooth pussy. He could almost imagine how it would feel to have her cunt clenching tightly around his cock as orgasm after orgasm wracked her body.

He shuddered at his own thoughts. God he wanted her. His member strained under the blankets as her tongue brushed against his finger once again. He wanted her to lick him from his balls to the crown of his cock. He felt precum dripping slowly onto his belly as he thought about her pretty little mouth wrapped around his dick.

She stirred in her sleep and her teeth grazed his finger sharply. He hissed at the sudden pain but it just made his member harder.

He withdrew his finger from her mouth and ran it along her neck, across her collarbone and over her tattoos. He traced the outlines of the foreign words all the way down her arm, then his hand slid onto her hip.

Isabella's eyes fluttered open and she frowned to see the king staring at her so intently.

"What?" She asked as she sat up, pushing Edward's hand off her body.

"Who gave you those tattoos?" He asked.

"A Daarkan elder named Carmen," she replied, rubbing her eyes as she woke up fully.

"They mar your beauty," he said off-handedly.

"They restored my beauty," she responded sharply, clasping her hands over the tattoos defensively. "You may dismiss the stories of the Daarkan healers as myth if you wish, but I can tell you they are all true.

"It's too early in the morning for this, gypsy," Edward groaned. "Stop being so damn quarrelsome."

Isabella gave him a withering look and folded her arms with a humph.

"I was having such wonderful thoughts about you until you started to talk," Edward said, clasping his hands behind his head.

A broad grin stretched across his face: "If you want, you can make my little daydream come true."

The girl glared at him and climbed out of bed, picking her dress up off the floor and pulling it on.

"Oh come on, girl," Edward moaned, his smile mocking, "Get back in bed and put that little mouth to good use."

"Two more days," she reminded him angrily.

"Two more days before I can lay a hand on you," he agreed. "But Carlisle didn't say anything about the other way around."

"I am not putting my hands or my mouth on any part of you by choice," she said.

"It always has to be a battle with you, doesn't it?" He sighed.

He sat up in bed and stretched his arms over his head, his powerful muscles surging. He stood up and pulled his robe on but did not tie it. He walked towards Isabella slowly, his eyes laughing as he watched her struggle to look everywhere - anywhere - but his hardened cock.

"You did this to me," he said, "you and your delicious curves."

He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her into him, grinding his cock against her.

"Get on your knees and help me get rid of it," he whispered in her ear.

"You're too lecherous for your own good," she growled, trying to shove the king away from her.

"I'm insatiable," he agreed.

"Too fucking bad," she snapped.

He tangled one of his hands in her hair and pulled her in for a kiss, taking her mouth as forcefully as he could without harming her. When he pulled away from her, she was breathing heavily, her body tense in his grasp.

"Why can't you just get a couple professional whores to satiate you?" She asked breathlessly.

"I tried," he said, winding his fingers through her hair. "But when they moaned around my cock, it was your face I saw."

Isabella recoiled but Edward held her head in place so the he could plant a string of kisses on her cheek, along her jaw and down her neck.

"When I made them scream out in pleasure, I saw your face," he whispered, his words hot on her neck.

Edward drew away from the girl and let her go abruptly. Without another word, he proceeded to get dressed for the day. She sat down at the table and watched him dress. Wrapped in rich fabrics and fine leather, he looked every inch the regal monarch.

"You may stay in my chamber," he said, his hand on the door, ready to push it open. "But you are not to go out on to the balcony until I return, do you understand?"

The girl nodded.

"Good," he said. "I will send a servant with a new dress for you to wear."

"Thank you," she whispered.

"Ah! Civility from the creature at last!" Edward cried mockingly. But then his tone sobered and he replied: "You're welcome."

Isabella watched as he pulled open the door and passed through, leaving her alone again. She stood up and wandered around the room, taking the chance to look through every drawer and box she could find for her mementos, just in case he had brought them back inside the room.

She slumped back down on the chair - she had found nothing.

Sighing she sat up and began braiding her hair, pulling the blonde waves into an elaborate plait that she had known instinctively how to do. As she wove her long tresses together, she became progressively lost in her own thoughts. Her fingers worked like a machine and she paid little attention to what they were doing.

She started when a knock at the door broke her trance. She hastily finished her braid as Carlisle walked in through the doors. He smiled to see her out of the dark chamber in which Edward had entrapped her.

"I'm glad our king has had a change of heart," he smiled, sitting down opposite her at the table.

"I wouldn't call it that," she said, but she smiled back at him happily.

"Well, no matter," he shrugged, "so long as you're not stuck in that room another day."

"Do you need to look at my back?" She asked, moving to stand.

"No, I don't think so," Carlisle said, motioning for her to stay seated. "You are just about healed, my dear, but I won't be telling Edward that."

"Thank you," she breathed.

"You need as much rest as you can get," he said.

"But will you come anyway to talk with me?" She asked hopefully.

"Of course!"

The young woman sighed in relief. The thought of being left alone with no one to talk to but Edward was enough to send her into a depression.

"I have good news for you," the doctor continued. "This morning, I sent out the drawings of you that I made."

"You did?" She asked, her eyes wide.

"To every doctor with Daarkan connections that I could think of," he said, looking very pleased with himself. "I reckon we should hear back within a couple weeks, give or take."

"Thank you!" Isabella cried, springing from her chair to wrap her arms around the old man. "Thank you so much!"

"My dear, it is the very least I could do," he sighed sadly, patting her head gently.

 _ **~~~~0o00o0o~~~~**_

Edward was in the middle of a council with his agricultural ministers when a shadowy face appeared in the doorway.

"Councilmen, I will return in a moment," he said, standing to leave the room.

The ministers bowed as he exited, following the man down the corridor until they were far enough away to not be heard.

The man bowed before handing Edward a sheath of papers. The king's countenance grew stormy as he saw that each parcel contained a drawing of Isabella with a message inked on the back.

"Carlisle sent these?" He asked.

The spy nodded: "We intercepted them just outside the city."

Edward cursed under his breath and then waved the spy away. He folded the papers under his arm before rejoining the ministers.

As the old men spoke of wheat and cattle, the king's mind kept drifting back to the contents of the letters. They seemed harmless enough, the doctor wanted to know if anyone else had heard of the Daarkan ritual and had included the picture of Isabella's tattoos to illustrate. But he had not just drawn her tattoos. He had drawn her face as well, perfectly capturing every detail of her visage. It made Edward wonder whether the doctor was also trying to help the girl discover clues to her past by finding out if any of his colleagues recognized her face.

 _ **~~~~0o00o0o~~~~**_


	11. Chapter 11

**The King and His Isabella**

 **Chapter 11**

 **Disclaimer: All twilight characters are not mine. Just the plot of the story.**

It's stupid. He thought to himself, paying no attention at all to the ministers babbling away. She's nobody. She's a slave girl, a whore... No one will recognize her.

And yet, doubt nagged at his mind: But what if there is more to her, what if someone does recognize her?

He shook his head slightly and then resolved not to allow the messages to be sent. He could confront Carlisle about it, but better to just let the old man think his letters had gone unanswered.

Satisfied with his plan of action, Edward turned his attention back to the meeting. Somehow, the old men had meandered off-topic and were engaged in heated debate over the best wine regions in the empire.

Edward sighed and clapped his hands, directing the conversation back to the topic of addressing food shortages in the rural North. He rested his head on one hand: This whole kingdom would go to shit if I wasn't here.

 **~~~0o0o0o0~~~**

Edward climbed the steps to his wing of the palace wearily, his guards close behind him. The agricultural meetings had gone on far longer than expected. He had eaten nothing all day.

One of the guards walked ahead to pull open the door of his chamber and hold it for him. He nodded and the guard closed it behind him.

The girl emerged from the bathing chamber as he entered, drying her hair in a towel. She was wearing a new shift, it was as simple as the last, but at least it was clean.

"Another long day of pampering yourself in my baths?" He asked, throwing a stack of papers down on the table.

"What else am I to do?" She shrugged.

"I don't know, perhaps you could sit in silence and contemplate the word "obedience"," he quipped.

"Only if you promised to do the same for the word "compassion"," she rejoined.

"Rulers of empires are not meant to be compassionate," he scoffed. ""Ruthless", "calculating", "powerful", "feared", now those are words used to describe men like me."

"How about "cruel" and "sadistic"?" She sniped.

"Yes, those too," he said, sending a devilish grin her way.

He pulled off his clothes and walked into the adjoining chamber to bathe.

"Bring me a glass of wine, gypsy," came his voice a few moments later.

The girl rolled her eyes but walked over to the table where the decanter and glasses sat. She poured him a full glass and was about to walk away when she noticed a familiar face peeking out at her from underneath the stack of papers. She pulled it out and gasped when she recognized her own features.

The drawings Carlisle did! She thought.

She turned the drawing over and hastily read the message written on the back.

He must have spies watching the mail, she thought ruefully.

"Gypsy! What's taking you so damn long?"

"I'm coming!" She called.

Isabella folded the drawing as quietly as she could and tiptoed into her room, tucking the paper underneath the mattress. Then she dashed silently back to the table and picked up the glass of wine, trying to focus on slowing her breathing and keeping her hands from trembling.

She knelt down and held it out to him. He took the glass and took a long drink from it, letting the warming liquid pool in his stomach and melt away the cares of the day.

"You may have a glass if you wish," he said to the girl, setting his wine on the side of the pool.

"No thank you," she replied despondently.

"What's the matter with you?" He asked, sinking down into the pool until only his face was above the water.

"Nothing," she said. She sat down on the edge of the pool, letting her legs hang in the water.

He raised a dark eyebrow at her, not convinced at all by her answer.

"It's just that..." She began, thinking quickly. "Well, it's lonely being trapped in here by myself all day."

"Welcome to my world," Edward said sullenly.

Isabella watched him reach for the glass of wine and down the remaining liquid in a single mouthful. Again, she had to remind herself that he was just a man.

A man who desperately wants a companion in his lonely world to distract him from his own dark thoughts.

She stirred the water with her feet: "Edward?"

He blinked and looked up at the girl: "Yes?"

"Would you like another story?" She asked hopefully. Her wide blue eyes were almost imploring.

Edward's lips twitched into the briefest of smiles and then he nodded.

"But," he said, interrupting her just as she was about to open her mouth, "make it a short one."

"I'll try," she shrugged. "But, you know, these stories have minds of their own sometimes."

"Try to keep your characters on a tight leash, gypsy," he said. "I can't be up all night."

"Busy day tomorrow?" She asked.

"No," he replied, a teasing grin playing over his face. "I just need to rest up over the next couple of days."

She looked at him quizzically. He laughed and waded through the water towards her. His hands traced up her calves and his dark eyes gleamed up at her.

"Because, come day after tomorrow, you and I are going to be having a lot of sleepless nights together."

 **~~~0o0o0o0~~~**

Isabella shot up in bed as Edward swung the doors to the queen's chamber wide.

"Oh dear, did I wake you?" The king asked mockingly.

"Apparently not," she replied, sinking back down into the covers. "Seems I'm still trapped in this nightmare."

Edward walked towards her slowly, a smile playing about his lips: "So you know what day it is?"

The girl rolled over and did not answer.

Edward reached out and ran a finger down the folds of her dress, toying with the hem.

"You won't be needing this anymore," he murmured, pulling the edge of her dress up.

Lightning flashed in the girl's stormy eyes as she sat up in bed, struggling to hold the hem of her dress down.

"Come on, gypsy, take it off," he purred, pulling her closer so that his lips brushed against her ear. His hands found their way around and gripped the front of her dress, pulling it sharply up so that her arms were trapped. Edward stood up from the bed and pulled at the fabric. Isabella tumbled onto the floor with an angry cry before the shift finally came up over her head. She hugged her arms around herself, curling up against the bed frame.

"Don't be shy, girl," Edward said, balling the dress in his hands and throwing it across the room. "I know every inch of you - I own every inch of you. Show me what is mine."

Isabella stood up slowly and let her arms hang at her sides. The fire in the king's eyes smoldered as they combed over her body. He stepped towards her, his clothes brushing against her just enough to make her nipples blossom. He wrapped an arm around her waist to keep her still as he lowered his head and took one of her breasts in his mouth. Isabella struggled against him, her fingers digging into his scalp as she tried to push his head away. Edward glanced up into her angry eyes and then bit down harshly on her nipple. Isabella cried out in surprise and pain, and she let go of Edward's hair abruptly. The king laughed and ran his tongue around her swollen nipple one last time before rising to meet her gaze.

"Kiss me," he commanded.

The girl pulled her face away from his with a contemptuous snarl, renewing her struggle to escape his grip. Edward smiled and let her go suddenly so that she fell backwards against the bed. Isabella gasped as she crashed into the bed frame, pain shooting up her spine as she crumpled to the floor.

"I don't have time to give you what you want this morning," Edward said, bending down between the girl's sprawled legs. "But I will be back this afternoon to give that tight little kos of yours the fucking it deserves."

Isabella glared up at him and her full lips shook with each heavy breath she took.

Edward smirked at her defiance and reached out to run his thumb across her bottom lip.

"You have the most beautiful lips," he murmured. "And they look even redder and fuller after you've sucked my cock."

Isabella's nostrils flared angrily and Edward chuckled to himself, his thumb lingering on her lip.

"Bite me," he whispered suddenly.

The girl's eyes widened slightly in suspicion and then closed as she gently closed her mouth around his thumb.

"Harder."

Her eyes fluttered open and she looked at him warily. To be sure, she wanted to do nothing more than bite him, to make him bleed, even if only a little, but she could not understand what he wanted.

"Do it," he said, his voice thick with impatience. He could feel her tongue brushing against his finger as she finally acquiesced. Her teeth sank viciously into his flesh and her eyes closed again.

If she had kept them open, she might have seen the way his eyes closed in pleasure and the way his body tensed at the pain.

He pulled his thumb from her mouth suddenly. And as she opened her eyes in surprise, he delivered a stinging slap across her cheek.

"Kesafat e goh!" She cried, clasping a hand over her cheek. "What was that for?"

Edward grabbed her chin and pulled her face sharply towards his, taking her mouth in a searing kiss before she shoved him away.

"I felt like it," he shrugged, rising to his feet.

"You are absolutely insane," she growled, pulling herself onto the bed.

The king ignored her, walking across the room to pick up her dress. He threw the shift over his shoulder and made to leave.

"Edward!" Isabella called, springing to her feet. "I need my dress. Carlisle is coming to see me one last time."

He glanced over his shoulder, one hand on the door handle: "No you don't. As I recall, Carlisle has also seen every inch of you."

And with that he closed the door behind him, turning the key in the lock.

 **~~~0o0o0o0~~~**

Isabella walked around and around the empty room as she waited for Carlisle, running the tips of her fingers gently across the walls as she paced.

Suddenly her fingers ran across a slightly raised patch of the otherwise perfectly smooth wall. She leaned closer, looking in confusion at the uneven surface. It was nearly impossible to see, it looked so much like the rest of the marbled rock. Isabella scraped at the smooth material with her fingernail, watching as it curled away in fine strips.

It's wax! She realized suddenly. It's been painted to look like the rest of the wall...

The girl dug at the edge of the wax until she peeled a corner loose, pulling it away from the wall in one smooth, rectangular piece.

She cradled the wax carefully in one hand while the other explored the slim, rough hole that had been carved out of the wall. Her fingers quickly met with a coarse piece of cloth and she tugged the bundle lose.

Isabella knelt down, placing the strip of wax on the floor so that she could unwrap the burlap. A small dagger fell into her hand, the handle made of raw, unpolished wood.

The girl dropped the piece of cloth to the floor and held the knife up, examining it in one of the slim rays of light that shone through the barricaded windows.

"Oh Irina, you clever woman," she murmured, fingering the knife's edge cautiously.

Noises from Edward's chamber brought her abruptly back to the present. She stuffed the fabric back inside the hole in the rock and tried as best she could to align the patterns painted across the wax with the ones that ran across the wall despite her trembling fingers. She pressed the wax covering in place and then dashed to the bed, wedging the dagger beneath the mattress. She pulled the sheet from the bed and just managed to wrap it around herself when the door opened.

Isabella breathed a sigh of relief when Carlisle walked in, sitting down on the bed heavily.

"Oh my!" He gasped, rushing to her side as the guards pulled the door shut. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," Isabella said, trying to calm her racing heart. "I was just scared that it would be Edward and not you."

"I'm so sorry," the doctor said, his voice heavy with remorse. "If there was anything I could do —"

"You have already done so much for me," Isabella interrupted.

"And yet it is hardly enough."

"Well then I must ask you to do something else for me," she said.

"Anything, my dear!"

Isabella reached beneath the mattress and pulled out the letter she had stolen from Edward.

"He has spies watching the mail," she said, handing it to him.

The doctor sat down on the bed beside her, shaking his head as he stared down at the drawing.

"If he finds out you took this —"

"It will be nothing worse than what he already has in store for me," she said shortly. "But can you send it again? Can you make sure it gets past the city limits without being intercepted?"

"I will find a way," the old man vowed, tucking the letter inside his medicine bag.

"Thank you," Isabella breathed.

"But this means... he must have had a reason for not wanting your description circulated," the doctor mused gravely. "Perhaps he knows something of your past he's not letting on."

"I doubt it," she said, shaking her head sadly. "He would do it out of pure spite."

"Well, someone out there must know who you are, Isabella," the doctor said, rising to his feet with a renewed sense of purpose. "And I will do everything in my power to help you find them."

Isabella smiled gratefully and thanked the old man as he left the room but his words did little to lift her heart. She lay down on the bed, her hand still clutching the sheet closed at her chest, and stared at the patterned ceiling.

I have a choice now. She reached underneath the mattress and pulled the dagger free. She held it above her, entranced by the glimmers of light that danced upon the knife's edge.

So... whose throat are you meant for? She wondered darkly. His? Or mine?

She tucked the dagger beneath the mattress and closed her eyes.

It was a terrible choice.

 **~~~0o0o0o0~~~**

The morning wore on slowly, the queen's room growing hotter and hotter as midday approached. Isabella had long abandoned her modesty to the heat and she lay naked on the floor, fanning herself with her hands.

Sounds filtered in from Edward's chamber and she sat up quickly, the blood rushing to her head as she did. Isabella pressed a hand to her forehead, groaning as the room swam before her.

She heard shouting, the slam of a door, then more yelling. Isabella stood up slowly, struggling to maintain her balance as the room slowly came into focus. She pressed her ear against the door, trying to make sense of the cacophony of sounds coming from the king's chamber.

"Edward?" She called out, slamming a fist against the door. "What's happening out there?"

Suddenly the doors to her chamber were thrown wide, the force of the motion knocking her to the ground.

Isabella scrambled backwards, her eyes wide with confusion as one of the guards rushed in and threw himself against the doors, barring them with his spear.

He laughed breathlessly and turned to face her, leaning against the doors as he gathered his breath.

"What's happening?" Isabella asked, pulling herself to her feat. "Is it Jacob? Are we under attack?"

The guard ignored her questions and pulled off his helmet, throwing it across the room. She flinched as it clattered across the floor, the ringing metal loud in her ears.

"No, we're not," he said finally.

Isabella's scarlet cheeks blanched at the sound of the guard's voice. She had not recognized his pale, chiseled features, but she knew his voice in an instant — he was the soldier who had punched her in the dungeons.

She was suddenly painfully aware of her nudity. She backed away from the man slowly, covering her breasts with her arms: "Then why are you here? What do you want?"

The guard pushed himself away from the doors, peeling off his armor piece by piece as he walked towards her.

"I want to know what's so valuable about you that I have to spend my every waking hour guarding you from harm," he said.

Isabella's back met the wall and her eyes flashed angrily at the advancing guard. He was less than three feet from her now.

But, just as he reached out a hand to grab her, the girl sprang to the side. The soldier growled and lunged after her, catching her by her ankle. She cried out as he brought her crashing to the ground. She tried to struggle from his grip but in the next instant he was straddling her back. He grabbed a fistful of her hair and slammed her forehead into the floor. Isabella moaned in agony as darkness clouded her vision. Her eyes blinked open as the guard dragged her across the floor towards the bed. Isabella tried to scream, tried to will her useless limbs into action as the soldier tossed her onto the mattress.

He was on her like a ravenous animal, threatening to devour her with every biting kiss. Isabella slowly regained control of her senses but she did not try to buck the guard off her. While his vicious hands roamed her body, she searched silently for the knife hidden under the bed. Her frantic fingers suddenly met with the wooden hilt and she gripped it tightly in her fist.

She lay unmoving as the soldier pressed himself against her, fumbling to free his cock. Isabella waited until he looked down and then, in one fluid and unflinching motion, plunged the dagger into his side.

The guard howled and rolled off her, clutching at the bleeding wound. Isabella leapt from the bed and ran towards the doors, pulling the spear from the handles and rushing outside. She threw the door closed behind her but did not stop to lock it, dashing instead towards the doors leading out of Edward's chamber. She tugged at the handles and cried out in angry surprise when they did not open.

"Help! Please, somebody!" She screamed, pounding her fists against the locked doors. "Help me!"

She turned around and cried out, ducking as the guard's sword slashed at the door, cutting a notch where her neck had been the instant before. The soldier lurched after her angrily, the knife still buried in his side. Isabella ran back towards the queen's chamber, pushing the doors closed behind her and barricading them with the soldier's abandoned spear.

She backed away from the doors slowly, her chest rising and falling frantically as she listened to the guard throw his weight against them. The spear strained against the force of his efforts and Isabella realized that it would not hold for much longer.

"You're dead, girl!" The soldier roared as he barreled towards the doors. "When I get in there, you're fucking dead!"

She pushed the bed towards the doors, straining at the effort it took to move the heavy wooden frame. The bed was only a foot away from the door when the spear finally gave out, snapping in half. Isabella cried out and fell backwards as the guard pushed the door open, clambering over the bed and inside the room.

Blood poured from his side but the man barely seemed to notice. Isabella pulled herself to her feet and dashed to the other side of the bed. The guard snarled and threw his sword through the air, the spinning blade missing Isabella's head by mere inches. She rushed towards the door but the guard was quicker — he caught her by her hair and wrenched her back inside the room, throwing her to the ground.

Isabella screamed as the guard fell on her, struggling to twist her way out from under him. Her every sense consumed with the pursuit of escape, she barely registered the sounds of Edward and his remaining guards crashing into the chamber until two of the soldiers wrestled her attacker off her.

The girl scrambled to her feet and backed away from the men. For a moment all she could hear was the sound of blood in her ears. But, suddenly, another sound brought her sharply into the present: The steel of Edward's sword fairly sung as he pulled it from its sheath.

She watched in stunned silence as the two guards forced her attacker to his knees, seeing but not understanding what was happening until Edward placed his blade against the soldier's neck. He swung the sword upwards and then brought it back down.

Though it lasted for only a moment, the sound of Edward's sword cleaving through the guard's flesh was sickening.

Isabella refused to look away. She watched in resolute horror as the man's head fell from his neck and rolled across the floor, coloring the marble tiles crimson. Isabella felt something — whether it was sweat or blood or tears, she wasn't sure — dripping down her face and her legs gave out beneath her. She sunk to her knees, her fingers digging into her thighs as she stared at the corpse. The hilt of the dagger stuck out from his ribs and the soft tapping of blood against marble seemed to resound loudly throughout the silent chamber. A few feet away, the soldier's eyes gazed, wide and unseeing, at her.

She blinked and looked up at Edward, watching him wipe the blood from his sword across his cloak without a moment's hesitation for the rich fabric. He sheathed the weapon and turned his amber eyes to her, wordlessly offering her his hand.

Edward had never seen the girl's eyes so empty of emotion. He saw no rage, no fear, no sadness circling in her eyes.

"Are you all right?" He asked her, pulling her towards him.

Her cheeks were painted with blood, most of it the solder's but some of it her own. Her forehead was already bruising around a gash at her temple. Edward caught the girl's hair gently in his fingers and cradled her face against his chest.

Isabella closed her eyes and concentrated on the sound of Edward's heart pounding, trying to drown out the echoes of the soldier's death, which seemed to ring in her ears.

Edward pulled away from her slightly, examining her carefully.

"Your forehead is bruised and you're bleeding a little," he said softly. "Did he hurt you anywhere else?"

The girl shook her head.

"Did he —?" He let the question hang unfinished, not wanting to speak the words aloud.

"No," she whispered.

Edward pulled the cloak from his shoulders and wrapped it around her. She grimaced slightly at the thought of the blood that stained the garment but did not object to the covering.

"I'm going to pick you up, all right?" Edward said.

Isabella nodded and inhaled sharply as the king brought her gently into his arms. She hugged the thick cloak around herself, pressing her face against Edward's chest so she did not have to stomach another glance at the gruesome scene.

"Get this mess cleaned up," Edward growled at the guards as he carried the girl out the door.

The king bore the girl swiftly down the hallway and the stairs, intending to take her to see Carlisle, but she stopped him suddenly.

"Edward, please stop," she said, the strength in her voice restored.

"What's wrong?" He asked, coming to a halt at the bottom of the staircase.

"I can walk," she said.

Edward hesitated.

"I want to walk," she said. "Please."

The king set her down, his powerful hands ready to catch her if she was unsteady on her feet. But Isabella's moment of shock had worn off and she was as sure on her feet as ever.

"I don't need to go to Carlisle," she said as they walked down the corridor.

"Head wounds can be deceptive," Edward said. "Many a man I've seen in battle collapse from head injuries sustained days prior. You may think you're all right, but you've been hurt."

Isabella sighed resignedly and let him lead her the rest of the way.

Carlisle had heard of the attack and was ready for her when they arrived, immediately peppering her with questions to check her memory before cleaning her wound.

The girl winced as he dabbed a warm, damp towel against her forehead and Edward grabbed her hand almost instinctively. She glanced up sharply at him and pulled her fingers from his.

"Well, it's a much smaller cut than I'd thought," Carlisle said. "So you'll be spared the pain of stitches, my dear."

Isabella closed her eyes in relief.

 **~~~0o0o0o0~~~**

 **Hi Friends!**

 **I'm sorry for the long wait. I was busy these past 2 weeks. There was a bit of drama in my home and I wasn't able to think or do anything else but sleep and go to work.**

 **Anyway. Again, I'm sorry for the wait. I'll try to update another chapter tomorrow to make up for not updating for 2 weeks. in my home and I wasn't able to think or do anything else but sleep and go to work.**

 **I'm all good now. Drama averted. Now I have 2 weeks of Chapters to edit and post. I'll try to update another chapter tomorrow.**

 **As always, reviews are seen and cherished.**

 **I want to thank everyone who is still with me with this journey. It means a lot to me that a lot of you are still with me this far given that on the first few chapters' people wanted to stop reading for the violence and theme of the story. I promise though that it will take a few more chapters to get it to that level of violence again. (I'll do a warning note first). But now the FUN part. Getting to know a bit more of Edward and Bella and a TWIST that is to come in the next few chapters.**

 **Until next time..**

 **XOXO Kate :D**


	12. Chapter 12

**The King and His Isabella**

 **Chapter 12**

 **Disclaimer: All twilight characters are not mine. Just the plot of the story.**

"She should rest here for a while," Carlisle said, turning to Edward. "At least for the afternoon so I can monitor her condition."

"Of course," he said. "That will give the servants time to ready the chambers in the eastern wing."

"The eastern wing?" Isabella asked.

"Would you prefer to remain in Irina's room?" Edward asked sharply.

"No," she mumbled.

"This is the second time someone has died by my hand in that room," the king said. "I am going to have it walled-off and levelled, just as I should have done months ago."

Isabella fidgeted with the covers in the silence that ensued.

Carlisle cleared his throat and rose to his feet: "Well, I'm going to go get you some water, Isabella. You are clearly dehydrated."

The doctor brushed past Edward, leaving him alone with the girl.

"Do you —," Edward's voice was low, as if he were unsure of himself. "Do you want me to stay with you?"

Isabella looked up at the king, her expression cryptic.

Now why would she want you to stay, huh? He berated himself as he waited for her to answer. But I saved her! Indeed... from the pot right back into the fire. She wants nothing to do with you.

"Never mind," he muttered, turning to leave.

"Edward," she called out, stopping him in the doorway.

"What?" He asked gruffly over his shoulder.

"Thank you," she said.

He nodded and left her without another word.

 **~~~o0o0o0o0~~~**

Edward could barely focus on the map laid out before him. Various generals and captains pushed clay figures across the parchment, arguing about the terrain and whose battalions should be stationed where.

They had been in the middle of discussing strategies of how best to advance north into Dahae territory when Noel had burst into the room, breathless and panicked, to tell him that Faraz was attacking Isabella.

He had not seen the guard's treachery coming, and that shook him more than anything else.

The maelstrom of voices in the room grew louder as the men's arguments over strategy became increasingly bitter. Finally Edward raised a hand to silence them.

"Let us adjourn for the evening," he said wearily. "I have had a trying day and cannot give this matter my full attention. We will reconvene in the morning."

Edward rose and his subjects did the same, they bowed as he and his guards filtered from the room.

They walked through the palace in silence until they reached the doors to the eastern chambers. Edward was about to enter the room when he suddenly stopped and turned to address his guards.

"You lost a friend and colleague today and for that I am sorry," he said gravely. "But, I assure you, Faraz will be buried with the full honor of his rank. Go home, rest. I have no need of your service tonight."

The men did not protest. After a collective bow, they disappeared down the hallway.

Edward sighed and pushed open the doors to the room. Once, these had been his parents' chambers. After his father's passing, Edward had ordered the servants to clear away the minutia of their existence that remained. He had intended the rooms to serve as guest quarters for visiting dignitaries.

Not that I've had any. He thought sullenly.

He walked into the room, taking in the low, wood-beamed ceilings and tapestried walls for the first time in years. His father had never been one for polished stone and lofty chambers, he had modelled his quarters to reflect the warmth of the dwellings that had characterized his youth before royalty.

Edward noticed suddenly that the gypsy was nowhere to be seen. His ears pricked as a breath of air stirred the room, carrying whispers of a melody on its wings. He crossed the chamber, pushing open the carved wooden doors that led out into the patio garden. The garden was a indeed a feat of ingenuity: A full story above the earth, his mother had managed to grow a paradise all of her own. A pond filled with water lilies sat in the center of the walled oasis, shaded by the lush foliage of flowering myrtles and fragrant citrus trees.

He followed the faint sound of music down the narrow slab-stone path that led into the center of the garden and found Isabella seated on the edge of the pond, plucking lazily at the strings of his father's oud beneath the light of hanging lanterns. Her bare feet tapped lightly to an off-beat rhythm inside her head while her fingers deftly coaxed a melancholy song from the ancient instrument.

Lyrics tumbled from her lips, dark and soulful: "I am captured in the shade, tangled in the net he made..."

She glanced Edward's way then turned her eyes back to the instrument.

"Ragged claws across the floor. How long have I been drowning for?"

Edward took another step towards her and started when broken glass crunched beneath his boots. He stared down in confusion at the shards of glass, the pool of red... But it was not blood.

"Gypsy, are you drunk?" He asked, his tone wavering between amusement and anger.

"I might be," she said, her fingers never breaking from their dance across the oud's strings.

"Now hush," she admonished. "Let me finish the song: I feel the salt in my veins, feel the teeth on my remains. My blood is weaker than the sea, she courses through what's left of me. And yet I hear his voice as it whispers through the dark. I can feel his fingers around my heart. I sink down, down, down into the blackest of the sea. Down, down, down not even death can set me free."

She let the last chord hang in the air and then turned her eyes to the king. He could see she was drunk. Her sharp eyes were not focused, they stared at him with half-resolved resentment.

"What do you think?" She asked. "Too dark and depressing?"

Edward did not answer. He turned his attention to dislodging the shards of glass from his boots.

"How about this one," she said, strumming the instrument in a livelier tune. "I went down to the shore one day, the prettiest girl did I see. I should have asked her from whence she came before 'would you marry me?' Too-lo-too-la-too-lay, she was a pretty dish! Too-lo-too-la-too-lay, too bad she was half fish!"

She chuckled to herself as the chords faded and watched as Edward tried to kick the larger pieces of glass off the path.

"Sorry about that," she said, her voice devoid of any real regret. "I've been testing your coping mechanism and, I have to tell you, I don't think wine is a strong enough spirit to banish my demons."

She dropped to her feet and shoved the oud into Edward's chest. He took it without a word, watching dumbfounded as she began to walk down the winding pathway, her bare feet narrowly missing the gleaming splinters of glass. He followed her wordlessly, his gaze hanging on her swinging hips.

Edward followed the girl into the chamber and rested the oud against the wall. Isabella pulled two glasses from a cupboard beneath the main table and filled them with wine.

"Does it help you forget?" She asked. "Or does it just make you feel like this - deeply, passionately, tragically wronged?"

Edward kicked off his boots and pulled his shirt over his head, throwing it to the floor. He walked towards her and ran his fingers up her spine, taking a heady breath as her body arched in response.

She spun on her heels, holding his wine out for him.

He drew his hand away to accept the glass and took a long draught. She watched him warily as she took a sip from her own cup.

"Actually," he said finally, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, "most of the time it makes me want to fuck something."

Isabella stepped back from him. She licked her lips as she looked him over, her eyes lingering on the trail of dark hair that snaked down from his navel, before returning her gaze to meet his.

"Seems it does not have that effect on me either," she said, her eyes simmering.

"Bloodshed makes me hungry," he said, running his tongue across his lower lip. "And the sight of you makes me thirsty."

"Oh yes, I almost forgot you like me best when I'm a bit bruised up," she said bitterly.

Something like remorse flickered in his fiery eyes as he stared at her. He reached out and gently pushed the hair from her face, revealing the purple marks beneath. His fingers drifted down the curve of her face, lingering on her lower lip.

"I'm sorry you had to see that," he said, releasing her from his touch. "I should have made you leave the room. I wasn't thinking."

She shrugged: "I've seen men die before, Edward."

"Ah yes, you've seen Death and you know his face is not like mine," he said, recalling her first story. "Are you sure I did not bear a slight resemblance to him today?"

"I'm certain," she said. "You're far more handsome."

Edward raised a brow at her: "Was that a complement, gypsy?"

"Yes, and one you should treasure," she said, pushing past him. "I'm sure it will be the last."

He followed her back out into the garden, struggling to keep his eyes and hands from the girl's ass as it swayed before him.

"Be careful of the glass," he said.

"I know," she snapped with mild annoyance, sidestepping the shattered goblet.

She sat down on the edge of the pond and dipped her fingers in the water, tracing lazy circles around the lily pads.

"Do you have pets, Edward?" She asked abruptly.

"No," he said, sitting down beside her. "Irina used to keep peacocks. The damn things were always flying up onto the roof and getting in through her window. I'd come in and she'd be reading or sewing, surrounded by a flock of squawking birds."

She watched as his lips curved in a nostalgic smile.

"Do you miss her?" She asked quietly.

He looked at her and nodded, throwing back the rest of his wine.

"We had a deal, gypsy," he reminded her. "Now that you've asked me a question about Irina, I get to ask you one about your former master."

"One question," she agreed quietly, taking a long drink of wine.

"Who was he?"

"Depended which side of his sword you were on," she said. "To his own people he was a hero, to the rest of the world, he was nothing more than a thief and pirate."

"What was his name?"

"No," she said, shaking her head. "You only get one question about him."

"Fine," he said. "But there's something else I want to know: Where did you get that dagger?"

He was certain he knew the answer and he tried to prepare himself mentally for what she would say.

"It was hidden in the queen's chamber," she said.

Edward nodded grimly and turned away from the girl. His queen had given herself, not one, but two opportunities to kill him.

He looked at her suddenly: "But you didn't use it on me?"

Isabella's countenance was stony as she replied: "I only found it this morning."

"Were you planning to kill me, gypsy?" He growled, his handsome features contorting viciously.

The girl eyed him almost idly: "I had not made up my mind."

"Well then perhaps I should be grateful that my guard attacked you," Edward snapped bitterly.

Isabella's eyes lit up angrily and she was on her feet in a moment, rounding on the monarch with sudden and uncharacteristic savagery.

"Believe me, Edward," she snarled, slamming a pointed finger into his chest, "if that blade hadn't been for you, it would have been for me."

Edward was taken aback by the girl's sudden strength. He took her in with wide eyes: Her bruised face, her wine-soaked lips, the tempest raging in her eyes. Before she could protest, his hand was on the back of her neck, pulling her forcefully towards him so that he could capture her mouth in a kiss.

He stood up as he kissed her, holding her against his bare chest with his other hand at the small of her back. Slowly he felt her fists unclench and she dug her nails lightly into his skin, dragging them across his chest as she kissed him back.

Edward bit at her lower lip as he pulled away from her, eliciting a low moan that made his cock stir.

"I think I like you better drunk, gypsy," he said breathlessly.

Isabella closed her eyes and tried to push him away, her limbs suddenly heavy under their own weight.

"Let me go, Edward," she said. "I don't feel well."

 _ **** Lemons ahead. Forced Sex rather. You may skip to the end note :D**_

"Oh you'll feel much better in a few moments," he murmured lustily, drawing her into his arms. He walked with her deeper into the garden until they reached a grassy space beneath an old wisteria that clung to the stone walls with gnarled fingers.

He set her on her feet and pushed her up against the wall, her back pressing against the creeping branches of the wisteria as he kissed her.

She tried to hold him at arm's length but she did not have the strength or the energy to struggle against him for long.

"No, stop," she moaned as his mouth moved to her neck and his hands lifted her dress around her waist.

"I can't," he breathed, pushing his pants down just far enough to free his throbbing cock.

Isabella clamped her eyes shut as Edward wrapped his arms under her thighs, grabbing her ass with both hands and lifting her off the ground. He positioned his member at the opening of her sex and thrust the crown of his cock inside her. He withdrew and Isabella's eyes flashed open. He pushed inside her again, giving her a couple more inches of his cock before pulling out again.

"Do you want it, gypsy?" He asked. "Do you want all of my cock inside you?"

The girl cried out as he drove the tip of his member inside her again. Edward laughed breathlessly as he pulled out once again, his cock dripping with precum as he pressed it against her pussy.

"Tell me you want it," he said.

"Let me go," Isabella whimpered.

"Tell me you want it," he repeated, giving her another inch of his dick.

He needed her to say it. He needed her to say it now. Edward's balls were aching they were so heavy with cum.

"This will all be over soon if you just say it," he murmured.

She pushed him away weakly, her hands resting against his chest.

"Just say you want my cock, say you want me," Edward pressed. "Say it and it will be over soon."

The head of his cock brushed against her pussy, leaving a glistening trail of precum across her skin. He pushed himself inside her and then pulled out, repeating the motion again and again.

"Say it, gypsy," he snarled. "Say it."

Isabella nodded her head and closed her eyes. But that was not good enough.

Edward pushed her harder against the wall and she cried out as a branch snapped against her.

"Say it," he murmured fiercely.

The girl looked at him, her eyes wide and unfocused but all the more blue for the tears that swam in them. He glanced down at his cock, its crown teasing the entrance to her sex, and then back up at her. His eyes burned her with desire.

"I want you," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Edward growled and thrust the full length of his cock inside her before she even had the chance to finish her sentence. He buried himself so deep inside her that she cried out, her sobs echoing into the night as he pummelled her mercilessly.

He reveled in every whimpering noise she made, biting at her neck as he forced himself deeper and deeper inside her.

"Fuck, gypsy," he snarled. "Fuck you're tight."

Isabella moaned and pushed her palm against his face. He laughed and sucked one of her fingers into his mouth, raking his teeth across her skin. She pulled her hand away and slapped him across his face. Edward just growled and fucked her harder, his fingers leaving ten perfect bruises on her ass.

"Go on, gypsy," he said, "fight back."

She stared into his eyes helplessly, her lips trembling as she moaned.

"Fight back," he purred mockingly. "Come on, show me what you're made of."

The tears that filled the girl's eyes trickled forth slowly and Edward leaned forward to kiss her tear-stained cheek, savoring the salty taste of her skin.

"I'm going to cum," he whispered. "Tell me you want it."

Her eyes flashed angrily and he buried his nails in her flesh. She cried out and pushed against him, the wisteria branches digging into her flesh as she struggled away from him with renewed vigor.

Edward laughed breathlessly and pulled her harshly towards him, impaling her tight pussy on his cock.

"Say it," he commanded, his voice harsh.

Isabella's eyes snapped into focus for a moment and her nostrils flared angrily at him.

"Fuck you," she snarled.

Edward leaned forward and kissed her, groaning into her mouth as he came. His teeth grazed her lips as he emptied his balls inside her, the force of his orgasm sending a shiver down his whole body. He pulled away from her, his cock slipping from inside her.

She waited for him to drop her, but he did not. He kept her pinned against the wall, his abdomen tight as he panted.

He suddenly smiled up at her smugly. Isabella looked down and saw his half-erect cock still pointed at her. But that was not what he was looking at. She groaned in humiliation as his cum dripped from her pussy.

Edward let the girl go, stumbling backwards from exertion. She sunk to her knees, cum leaking onto her thighs.

"Gypsy," he panted, "I've waited too long to have you again to stop now."

The king stood over her, his hand around his cock as he coaxed himself easily to another erection. He placed a hand on the back of her head and pulled her face towards his groin.

Isabella looked up at him and saw the stars spinning over his head.

"Open your mouth," he said, running his cock across her cheeks.

The girl felt the tip of his cock brush across her lips and she parted them. He filled her mouth immediately with a satisfied groan, pushing his full length inside her mouth until his dick was at the back of her throat.

Isabella clamped her eyes shut, tears spilling down her cheeks as he held her head in place and fucked her throat, choking her with each thrust. She could feel the dark hair that covered his testicles brushing against her chin as he drove inside her. She wanted to bite him, to hear him roar out in pain instead of pleasure, but she had no fight left in her wine-weary limbs. Every inch of her body felt heavy, every muscle slack.

Edward withdrew his cock and wiped it across her face, moaning slightly at the sight of his member trailing saliva and precut across her skin.

He let go of her head and Isabella collapsed backwards, closing her eyes to the swimming world as she tried to catch her breath.

Edward knelt between her legs and ripped her dress down the middle, his broad hands rending the thin fabric with ease. The girl shivered as he pulled the dress apart to expose her breasts, her rosy nipples hardening at the sudden touch of the cool night air.

The king ran his hands over her body, his palms molding to every curve and plane as they swept down her torso. He ran his fingers over the marks his guard's attack had left on her pale skin, tracing the thin outline of teeth marks around one of her nipples.

Did I do that? He wondered. Or did Faraz?

Edward lowered his head and sunk his teeth into her breast right where the marks were, running his tongue over her erect nipple as he did.

The girl whimpered and clutched fistfuls of grass and sod, digging her hands into the earth as she felt his hardening erection brushing against her lower belly. Edward raised his head, his teeth still around her nipple until it slipped from between them.

He settled between her thighs, pushing his cock against the entrance to her sex.

"Do you see the effect you have on me?" He asked breathlessly. "You're still wet with my cum and yet I'm ready to fuck you again."

Isabella choked out a desperate sob and Edward silenced her with a hand over her mouth as he forced himself inside her. He watched as the girl's eyes flashed open, the pain of his motions evident in her gaze.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, groaning as she sunk her teeth into the soft flesh of his palm. "I know you're sore but I just have to have you."

The girl had finally managed to muster just enough strength to bite him, and yet the sting of her teeth just made him drive harder inside her.

Edward placed a hand on her lower stomach, pressing down on her so that he could feel his own cock moving deep inside her. Her lithe body squeezed tightly around every inch of his member, driving him to the brink of orgasm with each thrust.

"I'm going to cum all over your face, gypsy," he murmured lustily. "I want to watch you lick my seed off your lips."

Even though the weight of his body pressed the breath from her lungs, Isabella could have sworn his voice came from miles away.

Finally, Edward groaned and pulled out from her. He clambered over her, kneeling over face so that he could empty his semen across her cheeks.

Isabella opened her eyes for the briefest moment and the king was undone. He moaned as thick ropes of cum shot across the girl's face, glistening white against her flushed skin. He shook the last drops of cum onto her lips and then stood up, stepping over her as he pulled his pants up.

The girl rolled onto her side and curled into herself, clutching the remains of her dress around herself.

"Come on, girl, get up," Edward said. "Let's go inside."

Isabella pushed herself to her knees slowly and tried to stand, but the earth beneath her feet pitched violently and she fell back to the ground. She stared up at the sky, watching the stars circling faster and faster until they became Edward's argent eyes, and then she knew no more.

 **~~~o0o0o0o0~~~**

 **Hi Friends.**

 **I'm sorry for the long wait. I have a lot on my mind lately but I promise from now until the end at lease a chapter a week.**

 **Thank you for those who are still reading this story. All the likes and favorites and reviews really keep me going.**

 **Until next time.**

 **XOXO Kate :D**


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